Small people

An Episode in the life of Martina Bellini, curly-headed nursing student

Small people

I. Am. Exhausted. I’m too tired to put an exclamation mark on that sentence. My small nephew and not-so-small niece are at my place for a ‘sleep over’. We call it a ‘sleep over’, but there isn’t likely to be a whole lot of ‘sleep’ before morning comes. I’d forgotten how very...active... they can be, these little people.

We went to an outdoor ice rink where a great deal of time was spent plucking little bums up off the ice. Chloe was one of those skaters with the turned-in ankles who take shuffle steps with their arms waving like flags in the air; but Heathcliffe took to it like he was born wearing skates, swooping around like an ice capade... if capades used those ice walker contraptions. I didn’t do too badly myself...but then I wasn’t actually on skates. I don’t think that should count against me though because walking on ice and juggling two slippery kids is quite a challenge, believe me!

I have a question about hot chocolate: how does a three year old boy get marshmallow behind his ear? I haven’t quite figured it out.

The rest of the day was quite full with a serious game of “but mommy doesn’t make it this way” at supper, ‘let’s wear everything in Auntie’s closet’, countless unending games of card war, and eyespywithmylittleeye for hours and hours, and – by far my favourite -- ‘you can’t catch me’ at bath time. Which, by the way, led to the disappointing discovery that someone has been playing with my lipstick, but I won’t say anymore about that. Except that it was quite upsetting to find it wound all the way out, and a big piece of it mashed inside the lid. I suppose I can scoop it out with a cotton swab or something, when I want to wear it, so I shouldn’t get angry about it. But you’d think a girl’s lipstick would be safe in her own bathroom!

They should be sound asleep by now – they’ve had any number of bedtime stories and told me a million silly knock-knock jokes, but I can’t get them to stop cleaning! Chloe is dusting everything in sight, and Heathcliffe is sorting my clothes. The trouble is he’s mixed clean laundry with what he found in my laundry hamper...though he did get the colours bang-on. I’m beginning to suspect they’re doing this on purpose because Chloe has just emptied the dishwasher, and that’s something she just never does without coaxing, threats, and bribes in cunning combination. I’m going to have to pull her away from organizing the kitchen cupboards and simply insist she goes to bed.

Wagh!! I’ve been in bed for an hour now, and was very nearly asleep; suddenly Heathcliffe was beside my bed, lifting my eyelid and asking for ‘cars’. He likes to watch cars on my computer – anything from Nascar to Indy, to bang-em-up derbies on Youtube. I really don’t mind showing him the cars, ‘cause I quite enjoy them too, that’s not the problem...it’s just so late, and I’m so tired, and I have to write a midterm tomorrow.

Ack! I have to write a midterm tomorrow! I can’t believe that today is tomorrow already! I totally thought I’d be able to get some studying done while the kids ate supper, or had a bath, or for sure when they went to bed. Do I stay up now and study all night, or do I get some sleep, and wake up really early in the morning? Wait a minute -- I can’t study now – we ate all the Cheezies this afternoon. That settles it...tomorrow morning it is.

Move over, Heathcliffe, I want to see this one too...