OK, so Scott was out of town for 7 days/6 nights this past week (I could probably give you hours/minutes if you want, I was countin' 'em down!!!). Those of you who know our dwarves know what implications that has on MY LIFE when he's gone. And I am CERTAINLY not complaining, as I'd gladly care for my children every day for the rest of my life if I could be so lucky... they are my world. However, it's DAMN HARD as a "single mom." (my hat's WAYYYY off to those of you who take on that role daily -- y'all ROCK!!!)
When Scott's gone, it is normally a craptastic, week-long, sleepless & chaotic slumber party against my own will hosted by Dwarf 1 & Dwarf 2. They become instant nocturnal creatures for a week, and honestly, their track records are not too whippy when it comes to average hours of sleep per night while Daddy is gone. Not sure WHAT they are thinking, but I'm pretty sure I overheard the girls saying this before Daddy left: "OK, powwow. Game plan: tag-team torture Mom till Dad comes home so that she is SOOOOOO miserable she makes DAMN SURE he never leaves us alone EVER AGAIN!!!!!! It's GO TIME!" They're MEAN! And IT BLOWS.
So, this go-around, I was pleasantly surprised that Claire & Lola were so... ummm, PERFECT?! We truly only had one, maybe two nights that were questionable, while the rest were surprisingly SLEEP-FILLED. I know, SHOCKING, right?!
I still made Scott promise pre-trip that upon his return -- no matter how good or bad they were -- I would get at least ONE night of uninterrupted sleep IN THE BASEMENT (it is sooooo quiet & peaceful & DARK down there!) with nobody clinging to/pooping, arching, or barfing on/grunting or coughing near me. I was pleasantly surprised that Scott offered this "Freebie Night" to me last night. And the cool part was that it was one of those nights where, as a parent, you just want to GO TO SLEEP as if you had no kids and/or proper hygiene for yourself. You know, just skip the tooth brushing, face washing, & getting the kids fed/changed/burped/held upright for 45 minutes till I can no longer sit vertically anymore. (yes, that's my nighttime routine -- everyday for the past 9+ years. NO PITY, DAMMIT! I hate pity, and I LOVE MY LIFE!!!!!!!)
So I made that statement to Scott, "I just wish I could GO TO BED RIGHT THIS SECOND WITHOUT DOING ANYTHING... I AM SOOOOOOOOOOOOO FREAKIN' TIRED!!!!!!!!" And the most wonderful, needed words *EVER* came pouring instantly out of my perfect husband's mouth. "Why don't you just go sleep downstairs tonight?" My response... "REALLY!?!??!??!??!" (did I sound too excited? Would he retract the offer?!) "Ummmm, seriously?", I said. "I don't give a shit. I got this," he replied. Exact words. I was never so "outta there" that quick in ALLLLLLLL my life! Grabbed my pillow, hugged & kissed Scott, & I beelined to the basement, almost giddy!. Didn't even tell the kids goodnight! Great Mommy moment. Yep, yep. I had 7 hours of sleep starin' me in the face that moment, and that was all that mattered.
The basement was dark, cool & quiet, and so I did that really super childish turn-each-light-on-all-the-way-back-to-the-bedroom-just-in-case-something-scary-lurks trick that I did when I was like 12 (no offense, Cal -- I know you're 12, and maybe I AM calling you childish!!!). I make it back to the bedroom, get everything ready for the best night's sleep EVER & then go back & flip all the switches off really fast, then sprint back to the bedroom so I was "safe." I'm such a dork.
I grab the throw pillow off the bed & get ready to pull the sheets down to get into bed, and I spot it. OMG, if I have one & only ONE phobia, it's SPIDERS. Mostly big, hairy "Wolfy spiders" (I'll spare you the details of one of the worst dreams of my LIFE, which may or may not have involved me being chased up my parents' basement stairs by a LIFE-SIZED Wolf spider, who was grabbing me with his hairy, huge, nasty-looking legs & it's 8 (or was it 6?!) eyes were red/squinty/full of pure hate, and I could not run fast enough to save myself, while his pointy fangs were gnashing & it was HORRIFYING & still haunts me to this day even though I dreamt that like in 11th grade. OMG!!!!! Longest run-on ever!!! LOL), but ANY SIZE of spider just freaks me the hell out. I'm a pansy ass, I'll admit it. They are mostly harmless, but I am pretty sure this was a Brown Recluse. Or maybe I just pretended it was because it was so icky. Regardless, it was haulin' booty to get off the bed away from me so it could fake like it was scared of me when really it just wanted to stalk me & then suck my juices out while I slept, so I had to act quick. No Kleenex in sight, no towel, nothin'. I was screwed! I had to destroy it or I'd NEVER sleep on my perfect, (hopefully) sleep-filled night!
I panicked... it was getting away! It was at a full sprint in spider speed (which scared me more than I want to admit), so I jumped on the bed & smacked it with my BARE HAND. Ummm, yeah. I had to. The safety of this household depended on it!!! I am cringing as I type this... SO. FREAKIN'. DISGUSTING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No juice squished out, but I did dismember one leg & the rest of the body was in a full-on seizure-type motion, so I darted to the bathroom where I grabbed some Kleenex & with lightning speed, I grabbed it (somehow?!) through 7 thicknesses (1 tissue never cuts it with spiders...) & threw it into the toilet without squeezing. That part always grosses me out. I then peed on it & flushed it down. Justice was served.
I triple-checked the entire bedroom for it's cohorts, as they ALWAYS travel in pairs, I've found. Thought I spotted one on the floor, but it was just black lint. DOH! I had nothin'. I had to let it go. I'd wasted like 6 minutes already wrestling that damn poisonous monster & then looking for his reinforcements! Ridic. Hopped into bed & prayed to God that I would sleep the sleep of angels... and I *SO* did.
You probably think the story ends here... but alas, you are sorely mistaken. I'd pre-set my cell phone alarm to wake me at promptly 8:00 am so I could go relieve the hubster & let him go to work, hopefully after he too (and the girls) had gotten phenomenal sleep. The better sleep he gets with them, the more likely I am to get future nights in the glorious basement getaway, so I'm all for the dwarves being good to Daddy!!! I sashay (is that even a word?! Why yes, yes it is...) upstairs & awaken to find the TV on, Scott passed out asleep in bed, Claire knocked out on the floor right next to Scott in her beanbag, sawin' logs, and Polly Ann Pocket is in her puffy-blanket-lined car seat right next to Scott, apparently content but very much AWAKE. Interesting turn of events...
I climb in on my side, and I try to go back to sleep, but I know it's going to be impossible. Once I'm up, I'm up. I still want to hear how it went, and if it's possible to sleep another hour in my bed (soooo comfy -- I did miss my memory foam bed, I won't lie), I'm all over that opportunity. 20-30 minutes passes, and it's clear I FOR SURE won't be able to go back to sleep. I hear Scott stir, and I am hesitant to inquire all about it for fear it was a total cluster. Here's our banter...
Gwen -- "So! How'd it go? You all rested?"
Scott -- "It went OK..."
WHEW. He wakes up a bit more & I push further...
Gwen -- "So you got some decent sleep?"
Scott -- "Yep, Lola slept from 1:00 am till 6:30 am... then she proceeded to wake up & take the dump of the century."
Gwen -- "You bring out the best in her. Hell, in ALL our kids. CRAZY!" (He has had to help ALL 3 OF OUR KIDS poop -- it's as if they cannot do it themselves?! Cal was most effective with the "running man" in combo with the vibrating bouncy seat. Claire did best with straight-up belly milking, and Lola, well, she's the most complex dumper of all, see below for specifics... WTH?!?!?)
Scott -- "It's like I am ONE with our kids' turds!"
Gwen -- "You're a freak. You are an expert because of all the time *YOU* spend crapping. It's insane!"
Scott -- "Yep, I am quite experienced in that department. I really am just playing games while I'm in there... Yahtzee, Sudoku, etc."
Gwen -- "Nice try. You waste hours a day crapping. Actually, you trained your whole life for these moments... you have a gift. You are the Poopmaster!"
Scott -- "I'm like... what's that one show? The Horse Whisperer???"
Gwen -- "Yes, you're the Shit Whisperer."
|Exhibit A ~ notice hat which is wayyyyyy too large for his melon. Telling indeed... this is how ALL "normal" hats fit our girls' tiny heads.|
|Yep, not much "head" up there. But he is happy, with surprisingly awesome muscle tone! Clearly no spastic quad CP present. I'm so bad. :)|
Scott reports that Mrs. Pocket watched 10 minutes of it & then had to turn away. I tend to get that way with Curious George, too. A bit of a train wreck. He angled her car seat toward him, and then she did quick glances at the TV as she could tolerate. Had to keep up with "her peeps."
Oh, and Scott also reported that when he first put Claire right next to the bed in her trusty beanbag in her FAVORITE position of all time (on her tummy, head higher than feet, arms out front, legs scissored, feeding tube hook-up pressed down into a man-made beanbag "hole" to take pressure off her belly -- we've got this down pat!), she kept looking up at him with her most precious, cross-eyed look EVER. My girl totally has my heart with this expression, and it's something that if you knew her as we do, you would know that when she does this, SHE IS SEEING. Those moments are few & far between, and we CHERISH them whenever we are blessed with them! So anyway, she was giving him her sweetest face, beckoning her Daddy with her charm, staring him down with nothin' but love ~ basically throwin' down ALL her best moves! He said he felt so bad he couldn't hold her in his arms (as he does every other night -- she is SUCH a Daddy's Girl!!!), as it was hard to turn down THIS FACE...
|October 29, 2003 ~ age 2 ~ Sweetest face EVER. You are my heart, Claire-bug.|
|April 5, 2010 ~ not quite as much "focus" (AKA crossed eyes) but still one of the most captivating, beautiful children I've EVER seen in my entire life. Those eyes... OMG.|
OK, so fast forward beyond the poop talk, past us laughing our butts off, to a rare moment when Scott told me something which I almost NEVER hear -- maybe only 1-2 times PER YEAR -- if that! -- does he say this to me... Scott said, "I had a dream. It was long. And I remember ALL OF IT."