Pacing ourselves

So the angel of a child that fell asleep at 6:30 last night? He woke up at 4:45am this morning. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to start his day. I brought him cereal to eat in his sidecar crib. I brought him a second bowl of cereal when he finished the first one and was still hungry. And I brought him the iPad so he could watch Netflix, which he did happily until around 8am. It was not the most restful of sleeps for us, though, because he was like that dude in the movie theatre who can't stop talking about what's going on.

"This is so crazy! Huckle is going to find the missing eggs in Busytown!" "HA! Chuck fell in the mud. He's such a silly truck." "Ooooh. This. Is. Serious."

Carolyn came over to play with Ian this morning and it was blissful! I told him she was coming over and he'd have to decide what he wanted to do and they took off as soon as she walked in the door. They played hockey and trains and rolled around a ball and worked on some modeling clay. And then she left around 11:45 because he said he was tired. He was sacked out on the couch asleep before her car left the driveway. Success!

Today was hard, though, because Rich and Ian are at such different stages of physical activity. It's particularly obvious when the three of us try to go for a walk around the block. Ian races his bike down the sidewalk so that my stomach knots up the closer he gets to the corner and traffic while Rich walks ever so carefully behind me with his cane. I feel absolutely torn between the two of them. Rich needs me to help him work through all he's struggling with, but I have to squeeze that into nap time and late in the day. And Ian has zero desire to leave the house without me holding him.

When Rich was in the hospital I wished that I could clone myself so that I could be with Ian and Rich at the same time. But now that I am with them both at the same time, I'm still wishing for that clone.