Things that go bump in the night

Posted: July 6, 2011 in Personal
Tags: ,

Monsoon season is here and it’s been fun, fun, fun with all the terrified kids in the house (cats and children).  My one cat, the official Dumbest Cat in the World TM, is afraid of the ceiling fans. If she can’t handle that kind of turbulence, imagine what happens when she looks out a window and sees a typical AZ monsoon? Her poor addled brain probably thinks Armageddon is upon us.

My 8-year-old daughter is not much better. Though she is brighter than the cat (so there’s that).  This same child that can get knocked to the ground and roll a good 10 feet over a dusty hard soccer field without being phased, is afraid of the storms.  She has boldly walked up to a 10 foot python, petted it and cooed to it.  But safely ensconced in our home, snug and dry, she quivers with every bright slash of light and thunderous reverberation.  Thankfully, the men in my life, my son and my tomcat, are suitably oblivious.

In addition, my daughter appears to be sleepwalking.  She’s always been a very active sleeper–she talks pretty well in her sleep and one can have occasional lucid conversations with her that she has no memory of the next day.   She took things to a whole new level a couple of nights ago though.  I was awakened by the sound of her crying at my bedside around 11 pm.  I asked her what was wrong and she said she was having bad dreams.  Before I could even finish asking her if she wanted to sleep with me, she was burrowing under the covers smack in the middle of the bed with my favorite pillow clasped like a lifesaving flotation device to her chest.  Within seconds, she was snoring like a congested heifer (well, like a small congested heifer).

My 9-month-old son, oblivious to fears of the usual variety, is simply unhappy with the pain in his gums.  He has successfully sprouted four teeth, two up top and two on the bottom right in front, making him somewhat resemble a beaver (or pick a rodent).  I learned of their completed protrusion when he bit me on the shoulder with them last night.

In addition to sprouting dentition with which to better express his frustration with Mommy, he is growing at an astonishing rate.  He already weighs half as much as his 8-year-old sister.  He’s not fat though…he’s sturdy.  He has little man muscles.  I fully expect him to be ready for the NFL by the time he gets into Middle School.   There are two problems with growth spurts like this.  One, they make his body hurt like hell.  Two, they make him eat like a fiend.  So at least twice a night I’m pumping formula and Tylenol into him trying to get him back to sleep in order to catch a few more winks myself before doing it all over again a couple of hours later.

Suffice it to say I haven’t been sleeping all that great over the last week.  And I get a little cranky when I become sleep deprived.  Who doesn’t?  I guess my neighbors don’t have to worry about things like that because they were awake at 11:30 pm after the storm had cleared lighting left over fireworks right outside the kids’ windows.    Both kids were ensconced and sleeping soundly when I heard the pops and rocket screams. By the time I got to the door I saw their punk asses high tailing it down the street.  Well, let me tell you that hell hath no fury like a sleep deprived single mother of two.  It was wise of them to run….very, very wise.

The kids were awake for a bit more and I lost another precious hour of sleep. I wonder how long a person can go without deep sleep before psychosis sets in.  Just kidding—sort of.  I guess we’ll find out.  If I start spouting gibberish on this blog, or gibberish differing in the quality of gibberish that I normally spout, then we’ll know for sure.

NOTE:  The author accepts no liability for the failure of the reader to understand snark in the above post or any of the posts on this blog, their failure to laugh or even smile at said humor, or the sad, sad  sound of crickets chirping in the resulting silence.

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