It’s the 65th day of my confinement. My jailers have sticky hands and speak in screams. My pleas for help are disregarded as pretend play and I lie that I need the toilet when I need privacy. They watch me through the bars of the baby gate and remind me who’s in charge. One abuses my breasts while the other my mind when I return to the living room. If you’re reading this, that means the Internet hasn’t crashed yet. That I had a moment to type, that they are sleeping, and that I will be binging on contraband food and TV for the next 30 minutes.

Owen likes to grind his teeth together he has so many of them. It makes him look like a drug addict in withdrawals, grinding his lower jaw back and forth like a speed freak ala Mad Max. Although, the albuterol for his bronchiolitis didn’t help with that. Nor the cough that went along with it and his sister not wanting to play since she was sick too. It was a rough Christmas.

On a brighter note, here are some truths I’ve learned in the past year that I thought I would share in honor of 2014:

– Babies and inhalers don’t mix. Even if they are wheezing, gasping like a grounded fish, they are going to fight off that nebulizer mask like a natural ninja. “Bodily restraint” takes on a whole new meaning and you will have the shattered nerves of a shell shocked parent. Oh, did I mention you get to do this every three hours?
– Teaching gratitude to a three year old is like getting a cat to heel. I know you asked mama for a peanut butter sandwich but I already made dinner, it’s on the table, you are going to have at least three bites, and you will say “thank you”. Of course, what she heard was, by all means start screaching and crawl under the table to throw yourself facedown on the floor and make your brother cry with worry.
– Domestic abuse from babies is socially sanctioned. Nothing like nursing a baby that has a mouth full of teeth and a mouthful of my breast who’s easily distracted and takes my boob with him as he rubber necks to watch his father and sister crisscross the room. I nurse him in bed primarily now.
– As a parent, if you really need to sleep, pee, or eat your child will undoubtedly choose that moment to scream, injure themselves, or shit their pants. It’s apparently in the manual that’s encrypted in their DNA. Also, our son is offended by all baby gates and when he’s not busy chewing on them he’s shaking them violently like an extra from Planet of The Apes.
– The moment one kid needs you the rest of the world needs you. Baby pooped himself and is choking on his phlegm? By all means start up your leaf blower next door neighbor, ring the doorbell religious freaks, as Nora has an accident on the rug in her room, and my phone starts ringing.

And with that lovely thought I leave you with an image of how we rang in the new year. Sitting in our car looking at other people’s Christmas lights while eating fast food from a drive-thru. Yes, just one sequined dress and boozed up dance party short of a good night. We came home after listening to Owen scream for half an hour and let Nora watch fireworks footage on the Internet. It was a banner night. We all were asleep by nine. Happy new year!