On Saturday I wrote about my family being away and how I was counting the minutes until their return. They returned Sunday around 5 p.m. It’s now 4:39 Monday a.m. and I am wondering when their next trip is planned.
I fell asleep at around 11 last night happy to have my husband and girls back and glad that they all enjoyed their adventures. I drowsed off contentedly, foolishly assuming that a full night’s sleep would follow.
At midnight, I was awakened by a horrific cacophony beside me. In a few seconds I ascertained that a leaf blower was not running in my bed, Darling Hubby was snoring. VERY loudly. I scampered to the quiet of the guest room and was back to sleep after some tossing and turning before 1 a.m.
At 3 a.m. Tate came in to discuss the loot the Tooth Fairy had left her (she lost on tooth while on her weekend adventure). I pulled her into bed with me and assured her that I would love to hear all about – any time after 6 a.m. I was back to sleep by 3:30.
A little after 4:15 Tate woke me up again, this time with growing pains in her legs. I staggered down the hall in search of children’s Advil. Two minutes after taking it, she informed me loudly that it wasn’t working yet. I explained that we needed to give it a few minutes but agreed to look for the cream we had for muscle aches if she would stop crying. That search led me to pawing through my bedroom medicine cabinet muttering loudly that I had not truly planned on sleeping tonight anyway. It must have woken Darling Hubby who came into the guestroom.
“What’s up?” he asked in the annoyingly chipper tone of someone who had spent the last five hours asleep.
“Tate is. Has been on and off since 3. The Tooth Fairy came, and then leg cramps did. I am working on the leg cramp issue now,” I said in what I am sure was NOT the chipper tone of someone who spent the last five hours asleep.
“Tater, why didn’t you come in with Daddy?” he asked. “I don’t mind.”
While I resisted the urge to smack him, Tate replied, “Because I heard you talking and I know Mommy is a doctor, so I came to her.”
“No Tate, Mommy is not a doctor. Mommy HAS a doctorate and a love of sleep. It’s okay to wake up Daddy sometimes you know,” I told her.
“I think Sponge Bob would help my leg,” she told me. “Do you mind if we cuddle and watch Sponge Bob?”
“Yes, at this hour I mind very much. Besides, I don’t think Sponge Bob is on at 4:30 in the morning. You need to go back to sleep. More importantly Mommy NEEDS to go back to sleep. Sleep needs to be our major form of entertainment right now.”
“You know what else is entertaining,” she asked. “Farting. Watch, I am going to fart and its really funny.” She proceeded to deliver on her threat and laugh maniacally. At which point, I gave Darling Husband a look designed to convey that someone was about to get hurt and I was not feeling terribly discriminating about who that would be.
“C’mon Tater, come in with Daddy and snuggle,” Darling Husband said to her. “I think Mommy is a little grumpy and needs her sleep.”
Captain Obvious and Tate retreated to my bedroom. I can hear them both snoring now. I am returning to the guest room to mentally plan their next daddy/daughter weekend.