Well, I had every intention of getting up bright and early this morning and enjoying the silence that surrounds my favorite time of day—writing an inspiring post and contemplating the vastness of the universe.
Yeah, right. What was I thinking? Instead I woke up in a fog at 8:00 in the bottom bunk of Boy #2’s bed, wrapped up in a Cars flannel sheet (Don’t ask why he still has flannel sheets on his bed even though it’s 90 degrees out…) with a Frogger mini arcade game resting against my forehead.
Here’s what went down last night:
I thought it was going to be a relaxing night. We had spent the weekend at my parents’ house, so I knew the kids were good and tired. I decided to start them toward slumber at 8:00 by reading a little more than normal to them. I thought that would be the start to a good night’s sleep. How wrong was I!
Boy #2 had the most problems going to sleep, after yelling “Moooom!” down the stairs numerous times and coming down once himself before finally falling asleep. “I need a drink!” “I lost the place in our gorilla book!” “Will you tuck me in again?” “Two hours is 120 minutes!” And finally, “I can’t sleep in my bed. I want to sleep with you.” Fine. “Go get in our bed,” I grumped. At that point I was exhausted so soon went up to join #2. Then Husband carried him to his own bed when he came up. Maybe now everyone will stay asleep in their own beds, I thought, oh so foolishly.
I’m not sure what time Boy #3 came into our bed. I don’t even remember him getting in bed. In fact, I didn’t even know he was there until I heard a chainsaw buzzing directly into my ear. Yes, #3 was laying practically on top of me, snoring like an old man. About that time I heard, “Bark! Bark bark bark! Bark bark bark bark bark bark!” Okay, okay, Teddy! I get it!
So I stumbled downstairs to the dog’s crate and was greeted by the aroma of freshly laid poop. Super! Took out the dog, changed his blanket, and forced the dog back into his crate. Then I decided to lay down on the couch to avoid the snoring child in my bed. I got about 10 minutes of peace when Boy #3 came into the family room and said, “I want to lay with you!” Knowing that there was no way I’d be able to sleep on the couch with him on top of me and snoring in my ear, I tried to talk him into laying back in his own bed. “I’ll even lay on your floor!” I offered. (Mind you, there is not one free inch of space on his floor, so this would not be an easy, or comfortable, task.) “No! There’s a bug in my room!” he cried. “A bug?” I said. “I’ll get the bug.” I figured it was just a fly, which for some reason freaks #3 out. “No, you can’t,” he informed me. “It’s invisible.” Of course. That dreaded invisible bug. I didn’t have the energy to ask him how the bug could bother him if it’s invisible, so I said, “Fine. Go back in our bed.” As soon as #3 crawled into our bed, Husband let out a loud SIGH. Now, remember that he is not the one who has been up and down with kids and dogs. “There’s an invisible bug in his room.” I thought I’d get Husband up to speed with the situation. “Use the invisible bug spray,” he suggested. Hmm, good call, I thought, but no. #3 had all the answers. “It’s a magic invisible bug,” he said. “It won’t work.”
I flopped back on the bed then, accepting defeat, and attempted to sleep while teetering on the edge of my bed and listening to the buzz saw start up again. A few minutes later, #2 came into the room, crawled in between Husband and #3, and started to snore himself.
This is when the bottom bunk started looking mighty good…And why I didn’t hear my alarm go off at 6:15…And why I didn’t greet you with an early-morning post…I tried, I really did.
What I was GOING to write about before my kids gave me such rich material was how my parents celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary yesterday! Forty years–that’s such a long time! It kind of makes me feel old, though, since I was born only 4 years later…However, we were going to be the “good daughters” and throw them an open house, inviting friends and family from all over for cake, punch, and conversation. When Mom and Dad found out, however, they delicately informed us, “Thanks, but no thanks.” They just wanted to hang out with their kids and grandkids on their anniversary and basically do nothing. There were no arguments from their kids on that one! We did manage to invite a few of their friends over on Saturday night for a very informal supper, which was nice. That’s when I snapped this picture of Mom and Dad:
Now, in order to really appreciate this photo, you need to know that I know my mom and dad love each other, but they’ve never really acted like they love each other in THAT WAY. I’ve hardly ever seen them show any sort of affection toward each other—I can seriously count the number of times on one hand—and I have NEVER, repeat, NEVER seen them kiss. Not once. In 36 years. I’m guessing they HAVE kissed at some point since they have 3 children, but I have never been witness, and frankly, I don’t think I’d want to. It would just be too weird. But that’s why when my dad grabbed my mom’s arm and then put his arm around her to pose for a picture on Saturday night, I just about fell over. I could hardly keep the camera steady because I knew THIS was a photo op that would only come around once every 40 years! I even had to take it TWICE because my mom closes her eyes in photos about 95% of the time, and sure enough, she had no eyeballs in the first shot I took. But fortunately I got another one, and it was actually good of them both. I knew, and I’m sure my mom knew too, that this was my dad’s way of saying, “I love you” and “Happy anniversary, babe,” to my mom. Sometimes a simple gesture means more than a bouquet of flowers or a huge box of chocolates. This was one of those times.
Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad! Can’t wait to celebrate another 40 years!