Hotel Nights

My apologies to those of you who checked the blog on Friday (or over the weekend) and did not find a new post. I was away at a work-related meeting, and the wireless internet at the hotel was being oppositional. The entire family came with me, and everyone was either sick or tired when we got back, thereby deferring any new posts until today.

That said, our time away gave inspiration for a new commentary. I've discussed before all of the fun of getting ready in the morning for activities with young children, including getting ready for church, but we shouldn't neglect all of the fun at night that PRECEDES getting ready.

Q: What do you get when lock two parents, a preschooler, and a toddler into one (albeit) large room at night?

A: Chaos and insomnia, of course.

The boys travelled well in the car, both falling asleep. Of course, the moment we checked in to the hotel, both boys were WIDE awake, despite it being 1-2 hours past their usual bedtimes. The boys LOVE being in a hotel, the problem is they don't love SLEEPING in a hotel.

Big Brother, slightly delirious from fatigue, starts running around the room the moment we enter with an empty water bottle yelling "Bottle! Bottle!"

Not to be outdone, Little Brother becomes completely enamoured with the travel-sized bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and mouthwash in the bathroom. He liked them so much that I think we could probably have given away all of his "regular toys." I mean, he SCREAMED and CRIED if you tried to take them away. And so, if you're looking for a Christmas or birthday gift for the young child in your life, I suggest a supply of these travel-size items in a variety of colors. They make for endless hours of entertainment, and are even better to play with than the empty boxes regular toys come in.

You can only imagine the submission holds that was required to get the boys to fall asleep. We usually get a room with two double beds, plus a crib for Little Brother. At home, the boys are champ sleepers. They both can be put to bed, and fall asleep on their own. Put us all in the same room and all of that goes out the window. Little Brother sees everyone else having fun, so he prefers to stand in his crib cheering "Hey! Hey! (giggle, giggle)." Big Brother puts up a similar front of resistance.

Midnight. Finally, the boys are both asleep. Mom-E falls asleep as I put the finishing touches on my presentation. About two hours later, Big Brother has wet, I mean FLOODED, the bed. We change him and all of the linens we can. And people worry about hotel beds being dirty?

Two hours after that, Big Brother wakes up again, this time to spit-up. Poor guy. Too much excitement? Ran around the hotel so much that he shook himself up like a can of Coke? Spit up and pj's are cleaned, and he's back to bed.

By now it's around 4 am. The alarm at 6am seems way too close. Superman, can you fly around the Earth fast enough to turn back the clock and give me a few extra hours of sleep.

5:30 am. Little Brother wakes up. And he is UP. The odds of winning the lottery. are better than the chances of him going back to bed. His diaper now changed, he's ready for milk. Apparently, his romp around the room with the "hotel bottles" accelerated the metabolism of his milk/dinner. Thank goodness we have a little extra milk in the cooler, which eases the screaming.

I'm sure our "neighbors" love us right about now. It's just like when you're on an airplane and you see the mother with a screaming child walking towards you and you're thinking "please, not me." I'm sure our family has elicited that reaction a few times.

6 am. My alarm clock goes off. The phone rings with the "back-up" wake-up call from the front desk. "Good thing for both of those or I might've overslept," I think to myself sarcastically.

Did I mention that before Big Brother is even awake, Little Brother has already spilled milk into Big Brother's open suitcase and over all of his clothes?

You get the idea.

Now that Mom-E and I are "wide awake", time to start the routine of getting ready.

Let me tell you, I was a ball of energy for this meeting (but still wouldn't have it any other way--to have my family there with me).

Have a good week,
Busy-Dad-E

P.S. Belated Happy Valentine's Day. Busy-Mom-E got me a remote-controlled car! (Big Brother got a remote-controlled car for his birthday, and informed us that I needed one too so that we could "race together," and Mom-E obliged. How sweet.) What I won't admit to *ahem* (clearing throat) *ahem* is that I would've been excited about the RC car even in the absence of Big Brother's request. They say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. This is partially true (as Busy-Mom-E's sous-chef, I'll sing the praises of her culinary abilities, as well as her ability to reform picky eaters), but the way also goes through children's toys. Let's face it, the chance to play with toys and relive part of childhood is one of the big perks of fatherhood. I, for one, don't play with my boys' toys after they go to bed, no, never *ahem* *ahem* (fingers crossed behind back while knocking on wood). Now, how to go about getting a Wii for Father's day?

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