You guys,
It’s 1am and I’m sick as a dog. (I realize “sick as a dog” is a cliche and I should rewrite that sentence but I just don’t have it in me.)
All I want to do is sleep, but every time my brain and body start to drift, there’s a tickle in the back of my throat that startles me to full consciousness and makes me want to cry.
BEEP.
Now what.
BEEP.
Where is that noise coming from?
BEEP.
Sam lays in bed next to me, asleep. He’s also sick as a dog. I should let him sleep.
“Do you hear that??” I asked.
“No. I was sleeping.”
“Wait.”
We listen.
BEEP.
Sam gets out of bed to deal with it.
I hear the lone, single BEEP every couple minutes turn into a frantic non-stop beeping and I jump out of bed. The beeping is RIGHT OUTSIDE GEORGE’S BEDROOM DOOR.
You have got to be kidding me.
Sam stands on a step stool and tries to disable the noise. He calls the alarm system number and is put on hold. The beeping continues.
We’re sick, we’re tired, and now adrenaline is pumping through our veins. I pray George and Layla don’t wake up.
Eventually, someone takes our call. Sam proceeds to replace the batteries in both devices. The beeping continues.
We finally realize the beeping is coming from the system in the guest bedroom. Sam removes the batteries and the incessant noise stops.
An hour later we climb back into bed, grateful at least for the jet engine sound machines next to our sleeping babies.
We pull the covers up.
It’s quiet.
I think Sam is asleep but then,
“This has to go in the newsletter.”
So here it is. I’m sure I’ll laugh about it eventually.
But I’m still sick, so it’s still not funny.
Mothers Day
I received my first gift from George.
I’m sure he had no idea he was making me a gift, and I know his teachers did most of the work. But my heart swelled with love when I retrieved it from his daycare cubby. Look at his tiny little hands and feet!
Is this how I’m going to feel about everything he makes me? What does everyone do with all the crap they save from their kids?
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Until next week,
Charlie