I promise not to be so long-winded with this post.
But only because I'm tired.
If I weren't, I would drivel on and on until you wondered why you keep coming back here.
What? You already do?
Keep it to yourselves people.
Then again, maybe you shouldn't keep it to yourselves. Maybe this blog needs a little drama.
Let's hear some mean comments. I can get mean back.
I think. I've never tried.
This has gotten way off course.
I am here to tell you about: Last Night.
So I've mentioned that Josh is away on a short trip. Like less than two weeks kind of short.
Compared to a deployment, this is nothing.
So it has taken me by surprise that Alex has been exceptionally emotional about missing Daddy, and not wanting him to be away.
When she was on the verge of erupting into tears at an inopportune moment yesterday, I followed the latest in child-psychologist approved protocol:
I bribed her.
Alex, if you can hold it together for a bit, you can sleep in Mommy and Daddy's bed tonight.
Tears? What tears?
This is a big deal around our place. We've never had an open for visitors policy in our bedroom.
Because I'm selfish.
And I like to sleep.
Alex has always been a good sleeper, and a good rule follower too. When we moved her into a toddler bed shortly after she turned 2, we told her that she couldn't get out of bed on her own, she needed to call for us.
Do you know that the child never once got out of that bed for a year??
When she was three, I finally had her come get us in the morning instead of calling for us because she was waking Derek.
We enjoy morning cuddles, but we never have had nighttime guests in the bed.
Derek hasn't factored into the equation yet, because, well, he's still in his crib.
Yes, he's probably too old to be in a crib. But after all, he is my baby. And he's never tried to climb out, so I figured if it's not broken, don't fix it.
But I should probably check the weight limit on that thing, just in case he's too chicken to climb out of it until he's six or something.
Back to last night.
I put Alex to sleep in our bed, and then resumed my nighttime duties (read: eating, television watching, internet browsing).
When I was ready to go to sleep, I climbed into bed next to my daughter.
She is 4 years old (for 4 more days).
She weighs 33ish pounds.
She takes up the WHOLE BED.
She lays horizontal.
She wears footie jammies with a rough, non-skid surface that she manages to get under my shirt and exfoliate my stomach with.
She sighs as if I am disturbing her if I reposition my head on my pillow.
It was not working for me.
So at midnight, I snuck off to sleep in her bed.
How ridiculous is that?
Then, around 6 in the morning, when my bladder woke me*, I snuck back into bed with her so that she wouldn't know and it would still count as her special night to sleep with Mommy.
*There was a time in my life that I could sleep all night without getting up to pee. That time has passed.
20 minutes later, Derek is crying.
6:20 is way early.
I go into his room. He is inconsolable when I tell him that it is indeed not time to be out of bed.
I have only one trick up my sleeve:
Stolphin the Dolphin.
It is his most special non-crib allowed possession.
Keep up people! The only things he's allowed to sleep with are Ellie, Doggie, and Teddy.
So I threw him his beloved dollar-store rubber dolphin and he cradled it, and most importantly, shut his loud mouth.
I crawled back into bed with Snorty.
Mommy, it's light out. It's time to get up.
6:50 is way early.
I gave up.
That was last night.
Here's hoping tonight is better.
And it turns out that I managed to drivel on and on despite my fatigue.