Monday, June 6, 2016

Didn't sleep much that night...

I didn't sleep much that night—maybe three hours. Why? Because I couldn't.

The weekend was fun-busy-exhausting, the day was full, and I got in back-to-back runs. I was ready for rest. Then our following weekend plans shuffled, one set of activities out, and another set in. The news came late, so I put off sending several messages to change declines into acceptances, put off sending invitations for Berzo's birthday on Sunday, and the logistics there unto until the morrow, or so I thought. My brain simply would not let the weekend wait. Also the puppy had an accident the previous night, so it was my turn to wait for a wimper and let her outside, to avoid another atomic poo mess.

The next morning I wished I'd stayed up to get the jobs done. I would have netted more sleep that way.

Having been through so many of those no-sleep nights when the girls were little, I knew I'd be fine. I wasn't running on deficit, and being semi-conscious can make the day go faster. So Berzo and I went about our normal day and chores, but early afternoon left me feeling woozy on sleep-deprivation.

Charley came home from work. Whew, I made it. Kids were still alive and reasonable happy, the house wasn't a pile of ashes...

So I went for a run.

Sometimes, a run recharges my brain with oxygen-saturated blood and revitalizes me, and sometimes it just zapps whatever I have left.

I was zapped.

I hosed myself off in the shower. Fell into some clean-ish clothes, and landed in bed. Oh, heaven.

Moments later, Berzo came in with Play-Doh Eggs. For those uninitiated to the splendors of YouTube Kids, Play-Doh Eggs are colorful egg shaped blobs of Play-Doh that serve as wrapping for a small toy. Berzo had made several and wanted me to take a video of her opening her eggs, like in the videos. I told her I would, but I needed to rest for a while.

She said she would wait.

I told her to go and make a few more eggs.

She said she would wait.

And she did, it was pretty amazing really, because I literally did nothing for about fifteen full minutes, and she waited…weird—I know.

Eventually, her staring at me while I zoned creeped me out enough for me to drag my carcass to the front room to shoot her video.

Charley, being the good man that he is, took pity on me and cooked dinner AND cleaned up the kitchen. Back off ladies, he's mine.

I slogged through the remainder of our evening routine, and Charley and I headed up stairs to continue watching The Walking Dead, Season Four. Boots and Berzo are learning to be autonomous during this time, and learning to help each other… ….OK fine, we just clock out and refuse to adult for an hour. It's AMAZING.

Tonight, Boots and Berzo immediately start fighting. Boots is indignant and demands I come back downstairs to resolve the issue of who gets to use the computer first, and for how long, set timers, and whatnot.

Downstairs. All. The. Way. Downstairs.

Conflict AND stairs?! I feel like crying a little.

Boots and I go back and forth a bit and I use my big voice, and state that there is no way I'm going downstairs, this is our (me and Charley's) time and this is their time too.

Boots gathers a mighty huff and stomps out.

I turn to Charley, "Sorry I was a jerk to her, I'm just so tired I feel sick. I take care of those two so much, and today I need them to take care of me."

We heard no further bickering from the girls that night.

Our episode ended and we looked at each other and telegraphed our usual, five-minutes-of-the-next? look, and Charley queued it up.

We called them upstairs to teeth brushing time, (after Berzo's eight cavities we now brush teeth as a family) and they groaned because they wanted to finish their pretend birthday party. They're playing together? Sweet! Charley and I watched another five minutes and he clicked the TV off.

The girls came bounding up the stairs, excitedly telling us about the birthday party pretend game they were playing.

We headed downstairs and the kitchen was clean. Everything was put away, the counters were washed and the sink was scrubbed. Boots had done it all. She had even sorted the laundry and picked up around the house. I oohed-aaahhhed and wowed about it all she did and offered to give her a couple dollars for all her help. She actually looked a little mad and said, "I didn’t do it for the money, mama, I just wanted to do something nice for you." (I didn’t tell her that the part I appreciated the most is when she engaged Berzo in a pretend game. An older sibling taking care of a littler one… as The Donald would say, "it’s HUUUUGE!")

She never said so, but I'm fairly certain she lingered outside the door and overheard what I said to Charley.

With a renewed respect for my Boots, I tucked her into bed, laid with her a while, closed my eyes and thanked God for the zillionth time that she was mine.


  1. I love reading your writing, Amy, mostly because you and I are in such similar stages of life that I feel your pain and your joy so acutely when I read your words. You say the things I feel but never put down on paper.

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