It doesn't matter how many times Hot Jeff and I have said we're not going to do some awful, terrible parenting thing (like fast food or cheetos) we somehow end up doing it anyway. Our kids have some sort of magical, mysterious power over us. Case in point: since they have both been sick they have been...oh I can't believe I'm going to say this...sleeping with us. Now as you know, Samuel often sneaks in but Little Emily is in a crib so this is all our own fault. We were well intentioned; we wanted to monitor her fever and we wanted to listen to her breathing-- it seemed only natural to put her in our bed with us.
But last night she was just fine. Still a little puny but no fever. So I put her to bed, in her own bed, and said I would see her in the morning. Well a few hours later Samuel had a bad dream and found his way to the "big bed" and then Roo started crying and Jeff and I felt all soft hearted and tender and WEAK and we went and got her.
So there we all were in one bed all snuggly and adorable and Jeff fell asleep within, oh lets be generous and say, 15 seconds and left me to whisper-yell, "Samuel. Emily. Stop wiggling. Samuel. Emily. Be quiet. Samuel. Emily. Go to sleep." And FINALLY Samuel fell asleep and then the snoring duet with his dad started. The loud, harmonious snoring: HUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMPPPPPPPPPHSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. Back and forth, back and forth between the two Henderson men. I'm certain the Egyptian locust plagues sounded just like what I experienced last night.
Then there was Emily, who when she isn't running a 104 fever was pretty squirmy and still totally impressed with the awe of the big bed and she sits up and then lays down, then sits up and then lays down and... Sleeping with Emily is like sleeping in a dryer. With a log. With a trip wire. And I say trip wire because when the dryer finally shuts off and the log lays in one place it feels like there is a trip wire on her and you're afraid to scratch, or fart, or cough or BREATHE in fear that you'll trip the wire, she'll wake up and the dryer with the log in it will start up again.
The longest night in my life had been reserved for the time Bug and I decided to snow camping. In January. In Montana. We were in college and lacking all good sense. We hiked in to some remote little snowy spot and tied our tent down to trees because the ground was TOO FROZEN to put stakes in. And when the sun went down and we went to bed the longest night of my life, up until last night, took place. I remember waking up shivering, looking at the clock and thinking it had to be almost morning. I looked at my watch: 10:00. 10:00! I had only been asleep for 30 minutes. And that's how the whole night went: me waking up every 30 minutes, thinking it was almost morning but really it was only 30 minutes later than when I had last woke up.
Well last night took over on being the longest night of my life. 12:00. 12:30. 1:00. 1:30. Oh so dreadfully painful it went on. At one point Emily woke up randomly screaming and she didn't want water but was trying to say something that sounded like she wanted water and I hear from Jeff's side of the bed, "What's that? Timmy fell in the well?" It was pretty funny and reminded me we need to keep our senses of humor when our children start taking ganging up on us in our very own bed.
She's in her own bed tonight, as is Samuel, and Jeff and I are prepared to listen to them scream it out. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, we're so mean. Cry me a river; she's not sick anymore.