Six O'Clock

Oh how I hate the hastening of that hour.

Six O'clock.

P.M., that is.

Six A.M., I can handle.  We're all still cuddled up in bed, waiting for our day to start at 7 A.M.

But six P.M.? That's a whole 'nother story.

Bailey's daily movie is over. Toy Story. Max and Ruby. Toy Story 2. Max and Ruby. Toy Story 3.

Brandon's leaving school, starting his walk home after another exhausting day.

Boston's trying desperately trying to power through the afternoon without a nap.

I'm starting to prep dinner, due on the table at seven, lest the rest of the night fall completely to shreds.

6:15

Bailey's starting her room time (a blissful 45 minutes where she plays in her room alone)

Brandon's about half-way home, on a good day.

Boston's melting down quickly and I have a choice - hold her and delay dinner prep or endure her cries while chopping a few veggies and starting a pot of rice.

6:18

I hate hearing her cry.

6:20

Narrating my actions helps, a little.

6:30

Bailey's either sitting in bed reading to her toys, putting together puzzles, or scribbling furiously on her dry-erase Crayola white board.

Brandon's home. Maybe. And desperate for a shower.

Boston's content as long as she's held, so again the choice between a few cries or prepping dinner.

6:45

Bailey's screaming "POTTY!" and it's anyone's guess if she really has to go, or she's just anxious to be done in her room and knows that the word "potty" is her get-out-of-"jail"-free card.

Brandon's home, pacing the house talking about how he needs to take a shower.

Boston's a mess. Again. Still.

7:00

Bailey's done in her room, begging for help to clean up her room.

Brandon's in the shower.

Boston's done with the bouncey chair, the walker, the Jenny Jump Up, and the play gym. She's done, period.

Let's eat!

7:05

Bailey's pushing food around her plate, scarfing down the carbs, tolerating the veggies, refusing to touch the meat.

Brandon's diving in.

Boston's cries are pressuring me to either scarf down my food at record pace, or leave my plate. I hate eating cold food.

And so it goes. Round and round. Grumpy and hungry Boston. Tired and stubborn Bailey.  Brandon and I trying to hold it all together.

And then there's 8 P.M.

THAT'S a glorious time.

Bedtime.

For BOTH girls.

Oh, how I love 8 P.M.