I'm a very busy woman.
Actually, I am severely sleep deprived and I have basically been trudging through my daily tasks just trying not to walk into a wall or through a glass door (*luckily, we have only one glass door in the house and I rarely use it). Wit has not been present, and I also misplaced Intelligence and that general ability to have Normal Conversation. I'm a gem. Brock worked in 95+ degrees everyday on a roof but somehow I think my week was still more pathetic because I didn't sleep well. I realize that I am probably the only one who thinks that, but in my defense, Brock is often bleeding without his knowledge (me: OMG! Why is there blood on your pillow? him: Oh? (inspecting his parts) I may have cut myself...), while I am a known delicate flower....
We went to the mountains on Wednesday night because my husband needed to bid out a job for some folks whose cabin was taking on water like the Titanic. Unfortunately for them, the damage was severe. Fortunately for them, my husband is awesome and can fix it. Since we were already there, we stayed the night at our friend's adorable rustic cabin. I was stoked for the chance to sleep with the fresh mountain air(pine trees- YES!, burning trash or hog confinements- NO!) wafting through the windows.
We had a lovely evening, complete with a visit with my sister and some friends from our youth. We ate, talked, laughed and watched our children play on the mountainside and I wore a paper Native American head-dress. I accidentally created a delicious treat when I knocked over my glass of Riesling into a bowl of vanilla ice cream (then I topped it off with some strawberry sorbet). Try it. Do it now. We bid my sister and our friends goodnight and proceeded to get the Things to sleep in the unfamiliar territory. To my great surprise and extreme pleasure, they both went right to dreamland without an argument. It seems the oxygen deprivation that comes with the high altitude of the mountains is great for getting your
You know when you are dog tired, like every muscle and joint in your body is screaming at you to lay down and it is painful to keep your eyes open and all you want to do is SLEEP FOR A VERY LONG TIME so you go to bed and it feels so good to be laying prone and you just can't wait to sleep and the last thing you want to do is to get up and have to move your body and potentially wake up every other person in the tiny cabin but your damn brain won't turn off the thought of a angry, hungry bear ripping through a flimsy screen and devouring your offspring? Yeah. That happened.
In my obvious brilliance, I chose not to move the baby and risk him waking up, but instead to lie awake so that, if indeed the bear did come, I would hear him before he got close enough to rip a giant claw through the screen and eat my tender morsel wee ones. I had a plan too: I would run and retrieve my children were we would proceed to huddle in the back corner of the cabin with rations of biscuits and water until the bear got bored and left. I knew this task was mine because I generally have quicker response skills than Brock. (Cut to my water breaking at 2:13 a.m. and I gently shake him awake to inform him that our first child is on the way and he responds "But it is 2 o'clock in the morning?!?!?", because we all know that babies should only be born between 8am and 5pm- during normal business hours.)
After finally nodding off somewhere around 4am, I heard the bright and early wake-up call of our teething baby at 7am. He screamed in his lovely, newly discovered, ear piercing "volume 11", then he caught sight of us through the fluttering curtain and used his "special" stare to make eye contact with us. It was the same one he used when the doctor held him up after
|He is utterly silent and making direct eye contact with me.|
Brock is taking the picture.
I could only hear the words "Hello, Mother" in Clint Eastwood's
|This is exactly what Brock and I look like...|
|Can you see the laser beams that he is shooting from |
his unblinking gaze? He is controlling us with his mind, people.
Then we hiked. It was okay scenery, if you like stuff like blue skies and trees and mountains and wildflowers. Whatev. Thing 1 was a trooper, with only minimal whining. Thing 2 slept in the backpack. Brock was selected as the pack mule of the day. I carried the food and water, which was easy because I packed light. I'm super smart like that.
|It's kind of pretty.... I guess.|
And then I spread my arms wide and ran through\the meadow singing
"The hills are alive..... with the Sound of Music..."
|Yo Dorothy, I hope you packed your ruby red slippers, cuz|
it's about to get freaky up in here.
I'm fairly certain that the dogs thought that aliens were coming to suck out their brains through crazy straws.
The next night I slept a bit more with the help of the lack of bears in Fort Collins and my good friend, Tylenol PM. Then I was in that lovely Tylenol PM induced fog until 3 pm the next day.
The next night I went to bed early as I once again had to be up at 5 am to get thyself to the Farmer's Market, where my friend and I were to be manning my cousin's booth. But instead of getting caught up on some much needed sleep, I laid awake listening to Brock snore for a good four hours. It was special. I need earplugs. STAT.
So here I am, fresh as a daisy! and ready to start a new week with a teething, shrieking one year old and a manic, under stimulated four year old. Good thing the temperatures have been in the upper nineties every day because that just increases the chance of heat exhaustion....Bring on the
I see a girl's only trip in my future. No children. No snoring. No cooking. No schedule. No effing bears. Who's in?
Do any of you suffer from paranoia or spousal snoring induced insomnia? How do you handle it, because the fits of crying and rage don't seem to be getting me anywhere....