Lately, it seems, Chuck has been in charge of putting the boys to bed and I, Chloe. I haven't had the joy of those last minute cuddles and hugs and loves from my boys. I don't know what happened, or how it subtly changed, but it did. I realized this tonight as I was getting ready for bed myself.
I was remembering how, for years, every night when I would go tuck Bennett in, since he began talking he would ask me, "Tiss me yaya ba?" Which, when translated means, "Kiss me after bath?" He always wanted one more piece of me. Often times, he would stay awake until he heard my bath water running and knew I would be in to kiss him in just a short while. It seems he wasn't able to fall asleep until that final closure. Many nights I would go in there to see his smiling little face look up at me and tell me one more time, even if it was in a muffled, sleepy voice, "You look pretty, Mommy." Ahh, now all was right in his world and mine.
When did he stop asking me that? I wish for the life of me I could remember the exact day. I guess its just one tiny step in his progression towards a life without dependence on his Mommy. Thankfully they're only baby steps because I don't think my heart could handle it if we moved too fast.
I need to go kiss my little boy now because its after my bath and that is what I always have done and will always do as long as he lives with me...even if he never asks.
I
t is a pretty well known fact that I'm a huge clutz. I walk into walls, bump into corners of furniture and trip on a fairly regular basis. But I was unaware that I could possibly die from my clutziness. I almost died the other night. Let me further expound...
It was late and I was very tired. I had just turned off the computer and picked up a scrap book I had been working on and head back to my bedroom. I was walking with the book flat out in front of me, not held against my chest like normal. I round the corner to our room with a little too much velocity and forget that I'm holding a large object in front of me. I failed to take into account that I would not make it thru the doorway until I ran smack dab into it.
Everything else is pretty much a blur. All I remember is feeling like I was just hit in the heart. I dropped my book and tried breathing. I COULD NOT BREATHE. Then I start panicking. I realize my fingers and toes are tingling. I drop the book and start shaking my hands to try and get some feeling back in them all while trying to inhale.
Chuck then realizes that this was not one of my typical clumsy mistakes and realizes I am hurt. He was under the assumption that I just stubbed my toe. That is one of the major differences between us - I am a 'worst case scenario' type of person, thus, I am freaking out that I'm about to die. Whereas, Chuck, the 'eternal optimist' feels that I have a little stubbed toe. How did we end up together? Anyways...he comes over to me and leads me to the bed to sit down. After he placed me on the bed (I was still gasping for air) he turned around to pick up the book I dropped and place it on the counter. In that 2 second time frame, I had evidently passed out face down on the bed and started fribulating and convulsing.
Evidently he woke me up. Again, in his optimism, he felt I was joking with him. I don't know how to convulse and fribulate on my own. Why would I think of joking like that? He asks, "What are you doing?" Like I know?!? I had no clue what just happened. I asked him, "What just happened, Baby?" And he was like, "Okay, now you're starting to scare me." I felt as if he had just woken me up from a nap. I asked him, "Are the kids okay?"
Evidently, when I was 'sleeping' I heard alot of loud noise and woke up to tell Chuck to turn it down so it wouldn't wake up the kids. Weird. I know I'm weird, but that takes the cake for me. He told me, "Uh, no, Cori...it seems you passed out and I was shaking you to get you awake...there was no noise." Hmmmm - what do ya know. I then have an awful sensation that I'm about to puke and head towards the bathroom. I'm able to inhale small amounts of air, but it is extremely painful. I now lower my prognosis from 'death' to 'puncturned lung'.
Seems that I ended up bruising my ribs, inside and out and somehow jolted my body enough to momentarily stop my heart, thus, disallowing blood to continue its flow, thus resulting in tingly hands, thus ending in the grand finnaly of 'the faint'.
No need to panic though, I'm alive and kicking. I'm also walking thru the house alot more slowly. Breathing has resumed to its normal pace and I am no longer fribulating. Life is good.
Chloe announced to me today that she is now a princess, "I am be real pinsess, Mommee." Wonderful. I thought I'd see how far her imagination would take us, so I asked some very pertinent princess questions, such as:
"What does a real princess do all day, Honey."
"Prawbe (probably) I go visit people."
"What do you say when you visit people?"
"Prawbe I say, 'hi'. Prawbe I cook for dem. Yes. I do."
All this while she is gently pushing the random strays of very fine blonde hair out of her face with both hands. She looks so matter of fact about all this. She does have her special pink high heel shoes on after all - what else does one need to be a real princess?
"Prawbee I hep (help) people all day yong (long). Yes, I am be real pincess. Me have baids (braids). Me be yight back Mommee." She takes such pride in her newly acquired role. She even deemed me a princess too. I'm so lucky to have my very own pink princess!
It is interesting that she has taken to making her princess so proper. She used to don her beautiful princess dress, pick up her purple light saber (a gift from the boys) and run around the house yelling, "Pincess dirl, pincess dirl" and making swooshing and flying noises - all no doubt because of her brothers' superhero influence in her life. It's so nice to see her becoming more genteel.
Chuck has been out of town for a 3 days now. I am starting to run low on fuel - and not the kind I put in my car. I can not sleep when my husband is not home. I barricade the house like Fort Knox. I double and triple check all the doors and windows. I slide a heavy chair in front of the door. I leave all the lights on. I stay up as late as I can until my head starts to bob to one side and I feel the effects of exhaustion sweep over me. Now. Now is the perfect time to attempt to allow myself to fall into a fitful 'sleep'.
However, all the lights on in the house are keeping me awake. Or maybe it's the one of the little people I let sleep in my bed. They each have gotten a turn to sleep with Mommy. More for my own peace of mind. They all make their own unique noises and twitches. This also keeps me awake. Last night, Gavin was also sleeping with his light saber - in my bed. Not that I'm not grateful for the extra amount of security that allotted us - but I think it was a bit over the top. I've never slept with a light saber before.
The previous two nights brought maybe 4 or 5 hours of sleep - accumulated. Anyone who knows me, knows that I REALLY need all 8 hours. I feel like I'm back in the throws of just bringing a new born home. Sleep is elusive. It's all I think about. Yet, I can't relax enough to enter the Land of Nod for more than an hour at a time. But last night was the kicker. I wanted to find my time card and punch out. I'm off duty. No more Mommying for me for the next 8 hours. God had other plans, however. It seems this is the week of Mommy needing to learn to give more of herself even when she feels she can give no more. It is a lesson I need to learn and am walking through wearily.
I finally dozed off somewhere around 11:30ish (VERY late for me). At 1:30ish I hear the swishing of little feet on the carpet approaching my side of the bed. I groan inwardly as I expect Chloe to come crawling in bed with me. How I wish it were only my little wiggle worm. Instead, it was Bennett. "Uh, Mom" he says. "What's wrong, Honey? Did you accidentally pee in your bed?" I ask. "Uh, no. I woeuflskdhfasiefhaosdjfsalkdjs....wahhhhh!!!". He started talking in his signature high-pitched, little piglet squeal, and I couldn't understand a word of what he said. I finally was able to get out of him that he threw up all over his bed.
My first thought was, Daddy normally handles this - I can't. I'm tired. I might throw up too. Then who's going to take care of me? It took a while for my compassionate motherly instincts to kick in. It then dawned on me that he might not be done throwing up so I bolted out of bed and ran him into the bathroom where we sat for a while. While he was washing his face, my second thought came to me, Oh man! I hope this doesn't mean we can't have our playdate with our friends tomorrow. I'm wreaking with compassion at this point. I'm thinking more about what I want instead of my poor, puke ladened child. The sight of him pulls me back to reality and all selfish thoughts seem to scatter (momentarily, at least).
Bennett asks if he could sleep with me now, since his bed is a mess. Uh, No!! I cannot allow the possibility of puke upon myself or my bed. But instead I answer with, "Honey, it would be better if you slept in Gavin's bed so you could be closer to the bathroom." My next step is to enter the room and remove all hazardous materials. This is definitely NOT my forte. This is the part Chuck so lovingly does. I don't know where to begin.
So, at 2am I find myself up on the top bunk, my head way too close to the ceiling, and my nose way too close to that awful smell. I somehow managed to get all affected materials off the bed without getting any on me. I threw it all in the laundry room and decided to deal with it tomorrow. I'm sure I'll have greater clarity of thought in the morning. Right about now I'm thinking, I'm glad I never went into nursing. I so couldn't handle the hours or the smells.
Our mini-disaster has come to a close and I re-enter my beloved bed wide awake. This begins the time of 'brain overload' where it feels it must think of everything and anything and the problems and solutions that lie therein. My thoughts range from the rain outside and progress to more and more unimportant issues, such as: our water heater, what would happen if our water heater exploded, I should probably come up with an evacuation plan, what if our roof collapses, we should probably have our a/c unit checked, have we changed our filters recently, I guess things could be worse, at least I'm not in a concentration camp....ad nausium. I was unable to find my brain's turn off switch for 2 whole hours. How lucky for me that Chloe decided to enter the picture at this time. She comes climbing into bed and continues to rotate her little body like a pig on a skewer for the next 30 minutes.
Enough! Before I say anything that might make her cry, I swiftly pick her up and head back up stairs to lay her comfortably in her own bed. I tell her it's still too early to come cuddle and head back downstairs. I just get the covers pulled up only to hear her screaming bloody murder. I sprint back upstairs and ask her what's wrong. "I hear a noise." She sobs. I can so understand being scared of the dark and of noises - I am right now too. But I assure her it's only the rain hitting her window and she's safe. That seems to work.
Again, I crawl into bed with my heart rate now highly accelerated from my little midnight exercise routine. The doctor did recently tell me I should exercise more - but this is NOT what I had in mind! God in his mercy, allowed me to continue sleeping for a full 3 hour stint - it was wonderful. All that to say, boy to I have a whole lot more compassion on single parents now! Not that I'm not already immensely grateful for my husband, but I'm even more grateful for our midnight team work, for the times throughout the day he so lovingly gives me some alone time, for the constant affirmation he bestows on me for the 'job' I do day in and day out.
Thank you, God, for your grace during this time. The only way I have been able to make it thru this week is by his grace alone. Thank you also for giving me somebody to take care of me - I like that.
