Lights Out

"This book light was the best thing I got in my Easter basket. When I use it, it makes me feel like I'm getting away with something sneaky."

Sleep Tight

And then both of the guys jumped on Mr. Rosenberg while he tried to read them The Hardy Boys.

Sweet Dreams

He's finally sleeping alone in his own bed. (Alone with Teddy.)

Getting Well

"Mom. I don't get it. How does a taco make you sleep all day?"

"I ate a bad taco and I was up all night feeling sick so it made me tired and sleep all day."

"Why did you get that kind of taco then?"

"I didn't know it was bad when I had it."

"Mom, I'm starting to think tacos just aren't for you. Watch - I'm going to make some funny faces for you since you don't feel good. I've been practicing."

Hobbits

 
"Mom, who's your favorite Hobbit?'

"You."

"No really, Mom."

"Sam, I guess?"

"Who are your other four favorite hobbits?'

"Um..."

"Sam's the only one you can remember, isn't he?"

"Gandolf?"

"Now, you're not even trying, Mom." 

Coughs

He woke up at 2:40am Saturday with that distinctive seal-bark cough. Bob had croup and was having trouble taking a breath. Taking him into the cold night air was the best thing I could do for his wheezing, according to my old pal, WebMD. We left Jeff and the dogs in bed and I bundled Bob up in a puffy coat over his pajamas. We got in the car for a slow drive around the neighborhood.

Bob was very brave. He took big gulping breaths, holding his head out the window like a Labrador. His breathing eased. We toured the nearby streets. We drove past Bob's school and Clementine's house. We drove past Sabine's, and Micah's, Desmond's, Felix's, Ferruccio's, and Cleo's grandma's place. We pictured our friends, sleeping in their beds. We talked about who in the neighborhood still had their Christmas lights up and who turns off their porch light at bedtime. We sang along to songs on the radio. We cruised.

We came back and had a drink of water. I set up the vaporizer next to the bed and and as Bob fell back to sleep he whispered, "Mom, I love you." Our dog Teddy crawled up and rested his head on the pillow next to Bob's. It was a regular night again. Soon, we were dreaming.

Night Moves

10:15pm  The guys are spread out across the bed, Teddy is asleep with his head on my pillow.

10:20pm  I finally get Teddy to move to the foot of the bed so I can go to sleep.

1:15am  Jeff gets up to let Daisy outside.

1:17am  They return, Bob has rolled over and is taking up Jeff's spot. Jeff moves his 6'4" self into the twin bed in Bob's bedroom.

3:20am  Bob wakes up and misses Jeff and moves into the twin bed with him.

4:40am  The dogs wake up and join the guys in the twin bed, leaving me alone to enjoy the king bed.

Sweet Dreams.

White Flag

I finally did it. I let go of the dream. That's right, I no longer have white bed clothes and towels. I'm still letting that sink in. I've had white linens my entire adult life. To me they represent freshness and cleanliness and I finally had to admit that "fresh" and "clean" aren't words that reflect my current life most of the time. After trying to continue that tradition with a husband, a boy and two large dogs, there were some filthy-ish situations that not even chlorine bleach could reverse.

Today I finally threw away the messed up, once white sheet that we referred to as the Shroud of Turin. I replaced the sheets and comforter cover with something that seemed like it would be more likely to weather the Rosenberg storm. Yes, this is about me buying new sheets but also it's about acceptance. It's one more way I'm letting go of my teeny little perfectionist-OCD-control-freak deal. So you can have the white sheets but I'm keeping my alphabetized spices. (That's just makes good organizational sense.)