Yesterday was an interesting day for my family. And yes, it did include both a broken arm and several fire alarms.
It all started at work with a text from my husband.
To which, of course, I immediately called him.
Our son’s been attempting to get out of his highchair for a while, and for the past week, my husband and I discussed finding the straps to his highchair … but never actually did it.
And it happened. Our almost 1.5-year-old got out of his highchair and tumbled onto the wood floor.
When I called my husband, I almost thought he was kidding. Like a sick, ‘oh, you should’ve gotten the highchair straps out sooner’ kind of a joke, but he wasn’t.
Our son wasn’t crying much after the initial fall, so amazingly, neither myself nor my husband were panicked or overly worried. He was in and out of the doctor’s office in just a couple hours and came home with an adorable little cast on his arm.
You’d think that would be enough excitement for one 24-hour period, but you’d be wrong.
All was well in our house, both of the kids went to bed by 9pm and slept soundly. And even I, for the first time in three days, went to bed before 2am, and for the first time in weeks, fell asleep before 11pm.
I have an ongoing joke with myself and most moms–who often agree, except it’s not a joke. I’m being very literal when I say:
So continues my unwavering roll of never sleeping more than 5 hours at a time.
Around midnight, our power went off. No big deal. That wasn’t going to stop me from sleeping. The event that was going to stop me from sleep occurred at 2am when the power came back on and all the interconnected fire alarms throughout the house went off, waking the ENTIRE family.
We got the fire alarm shut off, but not the children. Not until 4am at least.
So, as my husband and I finally settled back into bed, he said, “What a night” to which I replied, “Broken arms and fire alarms” and promptly laid awake another half an hour excited about what a perfect post title that will be…