Thursday, July 17, 2008


I heart sleep. I really do. Sometimes I go to bed right after I put all of them to bed. Before it's even good and dark. And occasionally....only very occasionally....I'll act like I don't hear the monitor(s) so Andy has to deal with the situation, whatever it might be. But last night - or this morning rather - at 3 am that just wasn't the case.

3:11 am to be exact, I heard Catherine hollering for me. Another reason I couldn't rightly ignore her. There's something about hearing "Ma-a-a-m a" billowing through the house in the wee hours that sends a mother running. But I was truly in a dead sleep. And my room was dark. So as I stumbled up the stairs, tripping and then catching myself and mumbling obscenities (hoping then that Catherine was far enough away not pick up a fancy new vocabulary to share at Sunday School), I just knew that I was going to find some kind of serious issue. But all I found was a sleepy little girl in Tinkerbell pajamas standing in the middle of the den, holding her Frosty the Snowman blanket in one hand and a giant plastic whistle in the other, and begging to please go get in "mama-daddy bed." So given the choice between saying no and having her throw down just outside of William's and Stuart's room - certainly waking them up - or just putting her in my bed, I chose the latter. I was a first class sucker. Thank goodness this is not a common occurrence.

She had brought this huge plastic whistle home from music camp and it had not left her clutches for nearly 12 hours at that point. She crawled in bed next to me and starting fooling with that @^&*$ whistle. She stuck it up my nose. In my ear. Twirled it around in my hair. I tried to ignore her but it's hard to act like there's nothing going on with you when you have a three foot long piece of plastic hanging out of your nostril. This went on for what seemed like months. I finally slinked out of bed when she finally went to sleep and considered choosing the bed behind door # 3 but I knew that the rooster was about to crow and I'd best give up the dream until tonight.

We have a king sized bed but it is a DOUBLE. As in me and Andy. NO ROOM FOR ANYONE ELSE. Especially anyone with a friggin' whistle. I can't believe there's actually an entire movement that advocates sleeping with those little sleep thieves.


Colored With Memories said...

I'm totally with you. Twice. Only twice has Lily slept in our bed...once during a terrible storm and the other time after ear tube surgery.

It was sweet and cute those two times, but I had my fill!

Sounds like the whistle needs to go missing with some of the previous artwork!

2OutsideTheBox said...

Hahhaha. So funny. Thanks for this! I could never sleep with my daughter, even sans whistle- too much wiggling.