Jane at naptime

Today is Valentine's day.  We visited Michael's school in the morning for his party.  This isn't that post.  This is about what transpired during and after naptime.

Because of our outing, and since I'm 33 weeks pregnant, naptime hit me hard.  At 11:30, everyone was sent to beds.  George was happy to lay down, of course, because he's awesome like that.  Jane decided to be in her room, not in my bed.  This should have been a clue to me that she was working on a poop, but I was too tired to deal with it.  I laid down and less than 10 min later, she comes in telling me she pooped.  Fabulous.

New diaper and she's in my bed.  She didn't last long in my bed because she kept talking and moving.  This was strange because all week she's been sleeping beautifully in my bed with me.  So, I kicked her out and told her to go to the couch.  My hips were killing me so I didn't get up to tuck her in, I just yelled at her a couple times to be on the couch.  Then I must have passed out.

I woke up around 1:48.  I got some great pops out of my hips in the places that hurt before I slept.  Then I heard Jane squeal from behind a closed door.  "Ugh, please be in your own room."  I laid there a few more minutes to rest and wake up, we had time before needing to get in the car.  Then I heard another squeal.  They were fun noises.  As much as I hoped, she probably wasn't in her own room.  So I got up, went to the bathroom, and slowly walked out of my room.

No Jane on the couch.  There was a baby doll all covered up and tucked in with her blanket on the couch.  But no Jane.  On to the rooms.  George's door is shut all the way, not a good sign.  Jane's door is open...no Jane.  So I slowly open George's door.

Both kids are in the crib.  There are breast pads strewn about the crib (from a leftover box that I didn't need but was being stored in the room).  There's a painting off of the wall and in the crib, face down.  Both children are naked.  Naked.  "Why are you naked?" I calmly ask.  I move closer and touch the crib.  It feels weird.  I look closer and see a tube of anti-fungal medicinal cream in the crib.  Cream on the back of the painting.  Cream on George's face.  I throw it away.

Then I stand there and look at them.  I never even got mad.  I didn't yell.  I tried to ask why they were naked.  Jane didn't seem to have an answer.  She only said things like, "I love my baby George."

My brain worked enough to realize that baby wipes weren't really working for the film that I felt all over their skin, so I said, "you're both getting a bath."  We still had time.  The kids were happy about it.  I calmly washed them both and they still felt filmy.  I got them both dressed and shoed.  I went to my room to get my own shoes on.  They went to the kitchen, and then to the car, all by themselves.  Then my alarm went off to get ready to get Michael.  When I went to the car, I discovered, they both had dinner rolls, too!  They got their own snack.

Naked, in the crib, spreading anti-fungal cream all over each other.  I have no idea how long George slept before she went in there.

There's no moral to this story.  No injuries.  I seriously doubt either of them ate enough of it to cause a problem.  I got a nap.