Breakfast of Champions: Gabriel-Style

For the past couple of weeks, my mornings have gone like this:

  • nurse John-Luke about a million times through the night, since he’s fat and wants to eat every seven minutes
  • drift off into a light coma in between nursing sessions.  Sometimes I do not actually close my eyes during this time- I’m too tired.  Yet I still have dreams.  With my eyes open.  Yes, I find this weird.  
  • hear the door to our room open, hear bare feet slap slap SLAP! their way to my side of the bed, and, despite my shushing, hear Gabriel greeting me with a “GOODMORNINGMOMMY“,  said in a voice appropriate for sporting events.  Unfailingly, this happens between 4:00 a.m. and 4:45 a.m.
  • Help Gabriel get into bed between Ken and myself, discover in the process that Gabriel has peed himself at some point, listen to him begin to cry hysterically (and loudly) when I tell him to strip, and then tuck a naked three year old in to bed with us.  
  • John-Luke wakes up, either from his brother’s “indoor voice” or from hunger, and he’s brought into bed with us.
  • All three men in my bed fall asleep and begin to snore.  I slip into another semi-coma, eyes open, dreaming.
  • By 6:15 a.m. the rest of the house is awake, I get up, make my bed, go to the little boys’ room to make their beds, and discover a puddle of pee somewhere on the floor, courtesy of Gabriel.
  • I close my eyes, and tell God for the six millionth time that I’m super glad for this chance to grow in virtue, but couldn’t He find a way for me to do it that involved less pee?  And maybe more sleep?



Like I said, this pattern has repeated itself with freakish precision for the past two or three weeks.


So this morning, when I woke up from a dream that actually involved my eyes being closed, and saw that there was daylight shining behind my curtains, I was completely confused.  Where was Gabriel?  Where was the pile of pee-stained pajamas?  Who cared?  I was going to sleep while the sleeping was good, y’all!


I rolled over and sort of hunkered waaaay down into my very warm sheets.   Ken, tired of the dog’s cold wet nose being pushed into his armpit in indication that Diesel needed out, got out of bed and left the room.  


I hunkered a little farther down into my very warm sheets and fell back asleep.


Some undetermined amount of time later, Ken came back into the room.  He laid across the bed and looked at me funny.  


“So Gabriel decided to switch things up this morning,”  I rolled over to look at him. 
“What?”  This couldn’t be good.  No way could this be good.
“Well, as far as I’m able to piece together from the trail of destruction, Gabriel woke up early this morning, peed on the floor, then stripped off his pajamas in the hallway.  Then, he went downstairs and peeled a banana.  However, something better must have crossed his mind before he bit into the banana, because he put the peeled, uneaten banana back in the bowl, and got into your baking cupboard.”


At this point, I’m cringing.  I just swept and mopped the floors yesterday.  Ken continues.


“That’s when he just went nuts.  He pulled out the honey, but wasn’t able to open it.  Then he found the sprinkles and was able to open those.  Then he dragged down  your giant, five pound bag of brown sugar.  He wasn’t able to open it from the top, so he just went ahead and ripped a hole in the bottom.”


Ken pauses.  


“Then, after his pantry party, he must have decided that he was tired, so he went down to the family room, got a quilt, and fell asleep on the floor.”


I stare at him for a long moment.
“You’re lying.  Right?  You’re lying?”
Ken shakes his head.   “Nope.  He’s still down there, in fact.  A naked, pee stained little ball of Gabriel, brown sugar and sprinkles all over his mouth.”


So that’s what finally got me out of bed.  I figured there was an hour’s worth of cleaning in the kitchen, but when I got downstairs, the carnage wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected.


It was, however, weirder.

 I’m not sure if the sprinkles were mixed into the sugar on purpose, or if the pre-dawn lighting was a factor.

Here’s the hole in the bottom.  At first, I thought that Gabriel had bitten through the plastic, like a sugar-crazed rat.  But if you look in the background, at the knife block, you can see that the scissors have been removed, pulled apart, and jammed back into the slot.  As far as I can tell, Gabriel tried to cut through the bag, was unable to work the scissors, and decided to just stab his way in.


Hey, at least he was thoughtful enough to put the scissors back.

Comments

  1. says

    I too wonder how the sprinkles got IN the bag Mike..

    Would have enjoyed photos of Gabriel and maybe even the banana.

    Life is never dull at the Donaldson house!! Both Ken and Cari have such a way of telling things, it just makes it FUN !!

    Love you all !!

  2. says

    I too, just belly-laughed so hard that my cheeks are literally sore, and the tears are streaming down my cheeks. Each mention of your voyage deeper into the covers had me cringing harder and harder…but with cheeks poised for laughter. Oh my gosh..what a nice way for me to end my day…laughing at the sugar-crazed-rat!!! Praying for diabetes to set in AFTER they move out of your house…

  3. says

    Hilarious. I so sympathized with the first paragraph. My fat baby eat all night too. We keep our three year old in a pull up still so she doesn’t wet but she still comes in several times a night asking for us to tuck her back in because her blankies came off. I am very impressed with the sprinkles inside the brown sugar bag. And the scissor use. You have me very afraid for the future, so far our girls have been tame. But our boys now… who knows where they might go.

  4. says

    I am dying. I, too, have a Gabriel who gets very annoyed at being told to change his peed clothes before climbing into the spot between the husband and I.

    He once woke early and ate a two-quart pack of fresh blueberries. TWO QUARTS. Do you know what that much blueberry does to the digestive system of a four year old? Yeah. It wasn’t pretty. I was traumatized for a week

  5. says

    Oh my…. HILARIOUS! The fact that he put the scissors back makes him cleaner than me in the morning. I’m telling myself it is ok though because I don’t wet my pants. Often. (just kidding)

    :)

  6. says

    This post was just what I needed this morning! :)
    You know…I seriously don’t know whether to laugh… or cry out of sheer exhaustion for you! I love reading about moments like this though. In a weird way, it gives me hope that what goes on at this house…is just as normal as any other family:) Love it!

  7. says

    He put the scissors back? He put the scissors back? I’m in awe that you have a child that actually puts things back? I think that’s the best part of the story…he put the scissors back!

  8. says

    I read this during a middle-of-the-night breastfeeding session…and may or may not have really and truly laughed and startled the baby. But serves her right — it’s not fair that she can sleep while she eats when I can’t sleep while she eats.

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