It's 2:12 am and I am hoping that my stomach is just mad from all the gluten free organic crackers, raw cheese and red pepper jelly I stuffed into my gullet at 10:30pm...
Why? Why did I do that?
What the hell was I thinking? Who eats red pepper jelly at 10:30 at night?
I'm extremely worried right now because come hell or high water, I have to leave for Vancouver in the morning for work (not easily rescheduled) and this better not be the friggen flu. As if my empty threats even matter. The flu doesn't care if I have to work.
While I was lying in bed groaning like a dragon in heat, Lilly appeared very distraught - expressing her extreme concern about the army of spiders encompassing her room. Ok, she didn't put it like that but that is what I interpreted from how worked up she was, in my half-sleep-half-puke state.
Yep, spiders. Everywhere.
There were no spiders, but when you are half asleep, or in Danny's case full asleep you jolt up out of bed ready to suit up like Iron Man. Danny came to, took her back in her room, calmed her down and came back to bed. All the while I am feeling like an overstuffed piggy named McTavish, from the kids book "Jillian Jigs" - he looks like he ate too much slop and he has long drooping
moustaches that I imagine being covered in chewed food every time I read it.
As I lay in agony, trying to ease my mind even more than my stomach in regards to the pending vomiting that's about to take place, Lilly returns to our room.
She says to us through her tears "I'm sorry but I just can't do it. The spiders are back."
She's sitting next to me right now, counting her fingers. So far she's made it to 11 and I'm about to barf.
I hear smiling shuts off your gag reflex so I'm going to try that - she thinks I am enjoying this. She then asks me to stop typing and look at her "split ends". I can't say anything around her without notice. It's almost scary. I convince her that she doesn't have split ends after much debate.
I am trying to establish to her that spiders aren't bad. She is looking at me in disbelief recounting the time that Danny caught a spider with a red diamond on it's back and Daddy told her not to go near it. She even remembered the book title that covered the glass "Oliver Gets Lost".
Before we came to be on the ouch, while I was trying to get her back to sleep, I turned the lights on to help scour the room. Oliver shot up in a flurry from a dead sleep to inform me (while he still had his eyes closed) that I did not read them a story.
I reminded him that I sang 15 different Christmas carols and that he needed to go back to sleep.
My tummy grumbles, I panic.. What is it about pending up chucking that makes us panic?
Lilly is pointing out letters that I am typing on the screen and sounding them out. C-c-cat. D-d-dog.
What would I rather be doing at 2:23am? Obviouslynot sleeping (sarcasm is not going to fix this situation).
Now that the twins are 4, I often forget what sleepless nights feel like. I watch myself becoming irate when I get woken up, observing like a third party who is not quick enough to intervene. I need to wake myself up just enough to get a grip and assess the situation so that I don't pound my fist through whatever wall I bump into first, but somehow not too awake so that I get back to sleep afterwards. This balance is a fine art. These are highly attuned skills they don't even teach in the CIA. There is no training for this. They are the skills of a seasoned parent. Parenting is the most vigorous training we will ever receive, and as of right now I have no idea what I will ever use my certificate for, if in fact I have what it takes to complete it. The only thing I could imagine using the finely crafted abilities I have acquired for, would be a ninja assassin.
Oliver has now joined us on the couch and I find myself laughing. It's more of a hysterical, cackle if you ask me. My children should head it's warning but they think it's funny that Mommy sounds like the witch from Snow White.
Oliver just consoled Lilly in regards to her fear of spiders, saying that when he was a little kids he was also afraid of spiders. She responded with "Um Ollie, you are a little kids....". I wanna tell them that "kids" is plural but I'm too busy trying to keep winning the battle brewing between my guts and my late night snack choice down.
I interject their cute banter with "You guys it's the middle of the night!" because right now, I don't want cute, I want sleep...and to not chuck my cookies. Oliver looks at me sympathetically and nods. I couldn't even get mad at his response, it was perfect - as if to say "I know Mom, this is the shit you signed up for. Now, can we watch a movie?"
Lilly just asked me if I know what "O" starts with? Before I can respond she says "O, O, Octopus."
Good to know. My stomach churns...
In all honesty, I realize that I couldn't have hand picked two better people to be up sick with at 2:30 in the morning while I deduce whether or not this metal taste at the back of my mouth (coupled with that nervous churning in my belly) is the flu or just my punishment for devouring too many crackers and cheese at an ungodly hour. Although sleep is the ultimate goal, a little spontaneous 2:47am comedy hour never hurt anyone...right?
Lilly breaks the silence with "Do you know why Humpty Dumpty took the jelly beans away from Puss N' Boots?"
I honestly respond with "No?" because I didn't know they were jelly beans, I thought they were magic beans. She describes the movie to me, making the whole jelly bean twist make sense. I find myself clapping.
3:17 am: Well, the battle has been won, while at the same time oppositely and equally lost. I must retire to the bathroom now, I sure as shit hope it's clean because I think I'mma be spendin' the night up in there.
Why? Why did I do that?
What the hell was I thinking? Who eats red pepper jelly at 10:30 at night?
I'm extremely worried right now because come hell or high water, I have to leave for Vancouver in the morning for work (not easily rescheduled) and this better not be the friggen flu. As if my empty threats even matter. The flu doesn't care if I have to work.
While I was lying in bed groaning like a dragon in heat, Lilly appeared very distraught - expressing her extreme concern about the army of spiders encompassing her room. Ok, she didn't put it like that but that is what I interpreted from how worked up she was, in my half-sleep-half-puke state.
Yep, spiders. Everywhere.
There were no spiders, but when you are half asleep, or in Danny's case full asleep you jolt up out of bed ready to suit up like Iron Man. Danny came to, took her back in her room, calmed her down and came back to bed. All the while I am feeling like an overstuffed piggy named McTavish, from the kids book "Jillian Jigs" - he looks like he ate too much slop and he has long drooping
moustaches that I imagine being covered in chewed food every time I read it.
As I lay in agony, trying to ease my mind even more than my stomach in regards to the pending vomiting that's about to take place, Lilly returns to our room.
She says to us through her tears "I'm sorry but I just can't do it. The spiders are back."
She's sitting next to me right now, counting her fingers. So far she's made it to 11 and I'm about to barf.
I hear smiling shuts off your gag reflex so I'm going to try that - she thinks I am enjoying this. She then asks me to stop typing and look at her "split ends". I can't say anything around her without notice. It's almost scary. I convince her that she doesn't have split ends after much debate.
I am trying to establish to her that spiders aren't bad. She is looking at me in disbelief recounting the time that Danny caught a spider with a red diamond on it's back and Daddy told her not to go near it. She even remembered the book title that covered the glass "Oliver Gets Lost".
Before we came to be on the ouch, while I was trying to get her back to sleep, I turned the lights on to help scour the room. Oliver shot up in a flurry from a dead sleep to inform me (while he still had his eyes closed) that I did not read them a story.
I reminded him that I sang 15 different Christmas carols and that he needed to go back to sleep.
My tummy grumbles, I panic.. What is it about pending up chucking that makes us panic?
Lilly is pointing out letters that I am typing on the screen and sounding them out. C-c-cat. D-d-dog.
What would I rather be doing at 2:23am? Obviously
Now that the twins are 4, I often forget what sleepless nights feel like. I watch myself becoming irate when I get woken up, observing like a third party who is not quick enough to intervene. I need to wake myself up just enough to get a grip and assess the situation so that I don't pound my fist through whatever wall I bump into first, but somehow not too awake so that I get back to sleep afterwards. This balance is a fine art. These are highly attuned skills they don't even teach in the CIA. There is no training for this. They are the skills of a seasoned parent. Parenting is the most vigorous training we will ever receive, and as of right now I have no idea what I will ever use my certificate for, if in fact I have what it takes to complete it. The only thing I could imagine using the finely crafted abilities I have acquired for, would be a ninja assassin.
Oliver has now joined us on the couch and I find myself laughing. It's more of a hysterical, cackle if you ask me. My children should head it's warning but they think it's funny that Mommy sounds like the witch from Snow White.
Oliver just consoled Lilly in regards to her fear of spiders, saying that when he was a little kids he was also afraid of spiders. She responded with "Um Ollie, you are a little kids....". I wanna tell them that "kids" is plural but I'm too busy trying to keep winning the battle brewing between my guts and my late night snack choice down.
I interject their cute banter with "You guys it's the middle of the night!" because right now, I don't want cute, I want sleep...and to not chuck my cookies. Oliver looks at me sympathetically and nods. I couldn't even get mad at his response, it was perfect - as if to say "I know Mom, this is the shit you signed up for. Now, can we watch a movie?"
Lilly just asked me if I know what "O" starts with? Before I can respond she says "O, O, Octopus."
Good to know. My stomach churns...
In all honesty, I realize that I couldn't have hand picked two better people to be up sick with at 2:30 in the morning while I deduce whether or not this metal taste at the back of my mouth (coupled with that nervous churning in my belly) is the flu or just my punishment for devouring too many crackers and cheese at an ungodly hour. Although sleep is the ultimate goal, a little spontaneous 2:47am comedy hour never hurt anyone...right?
Lilly breaks the silence with "Do you know why Humpty Dumpty took the jelly beans away from Puss N' Boots?"
I honestly respond with "No?" because I didn't know they were jelly beans, I thought they were magic beans. She describes the movie to me, making the whole jelly bean twist make sense. I find myself clapping.
3:17 am: Well, the battle has been won, while at the same time oppositely and equally lost. I must retire to the bathroom now, I sure as shit hope it's clean because I think I'mma be spendin' the night up in there.
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