Sunday is my favorite day of the week. Usually. This past Sunday morning started with a bang. Saturday night we decided on having a family movie night and invited the Pevensey children, Aslan and the White Witch to regale us with tales from Narnia. The boys fell asleep before Beaver accused his wife of being a sub par chef so when the movie ended we just threw blankets over them and left them where they were. By 6 a.m. I had been lying awake in bed for hours due to a disturbing dream but I was determined to stay put until the alarm sounded. Just as I was starting to drift I heard the BANG that started my day....and you thought I was just being coy. One of the Buddies had rolled of the recliner he'd fallen asleep on. Most children would cry and run to Mama after such a rude awakening. Not my boy. No, he decided it was fun and tried several times to recreate the accident.
When my eyelids refused to close I reluctantly dragged my resisting body from the warm covers and headed for the washroom. We have had our dog since July. The dog has slept on the floor beside me every single night since then so one would think that I would be aware of his presence by now. Yet every morning my foot manages to find a paw or tail before it finds the floor. After I gave Dog his daily wake up nudge I stumbled my way to the shower. The 5 year-old met me there. I lost the benefit of privacy long ago although I do have fond, albeit foggy, memories of it. I am okay with only having a shower curtain to shield my "birthday suit" from any given child as long as they remember not to flush while I'm behind it. I had just managed to get under the gloriously too hot water when she informed me the dog was "puking everywhere"! I told her to dodge the piles while I rinsed. As I stepped out and wrapped myself in a damp towel (because every towel in our bathroom is consistently damp due to the revolving shower schedule in our one bath house) girl #2 entered to ask why the cat food was carpeting the kitchen floor. I shrugged my shoulders and bit my tongue.
I managed to dress without further interruption except my husband's snoring which is still under investigation as to whether it was fake. After 5 dogs and 5 babies he has become, what he considers, a masterful spurious sleeper. For years he actually believed he had successfully tricked me into thinking he slept through every bought of colic. He was shocked when I revealed I knew full-well he was awake but never bothered to enforce "his turn" because doing so would be more work than taking care of the pet or papoose myself. I left the room making my husband think his stunt was a success. On my way to the stairs I made a quick stop in the laundry room to grab the last remaining roll of paper towels in the house to clean up the dog's former stomach contents now dotting the perimeter of my basement.
At the top of the steps I was bowled over by a vivacious little boy who proudly announced that he fed the cats! As I peered over his sweet little shoulder I saw the blanket of kitty kibble enveloping the floor and the 3 pieces that made it to the bowl. Patting him on the head I grabbed the broom and dust pan. He looked at me questioningly and asked what I was doing. I explained that watching unassuming people walk onto a floor covered in marbles or kibble was only funny in cartoons or when they win $10,000 for doing it. For a brief moment I was tempted to grab the camcorder and yell for my "sleepy" spouse. Instead I handed the 4 year-old the broom and locked myself in the powder room until the thoughts of sweet payback passed.
When my eyelids refused to close I reluctantly dragged my resisting body from the warm covers and headed for the washroom. We have had our dog since July. The dog has slept on the floor beside me every single night since then so one would think that I would be aware of his presence by now. Yet every morning my foot manages to find a paw or tail before it finds the floor. After I gave Dog his daily wake up nudge I stumbled my way to the shower. The 5 year-old met me there. I lost the benefit of privacy long ago although I do have fond, albeit foggy, memories of it. I am okay with only having a shower curtain to shield my "birthday suit" from any given child as long as they remember not to flush while I'm behind it. I had just managed to get under the gloriously too hot water when she informed me the dog was "puking everywhere"! I told her to dodge the piles while I rinsed. As I stepped out and wrapped myself in a damp towel (because every towel in our bathroom is consistently damp due to the revolving shower schedule in our one bath house) girl #2 entered to ask why the cat food was carpeting the kitchen floor. I shrugged my shoulders and bit my tongue.
I managed to dress without further interruption except my husband's snoring which is still under investigation as to whether it was fake. After 5 dogs and 5 babies he has become, what he considers, a masterful spurious sleeper. For years he actually believed he had successfully tricked me into thinking he slept through every bought of colic. He was shocked when I revealed I knew full-well he was awake but never bothered to enforce "his turn" because doing so would be more work than taking care of the pet or papoose myself. I left the room making my husband think his stunt was a success. On my way to the stairs I made a quick stop in the laundry room to grab the last remaining roll of paper towels in the house to clean up the dog's former stomach contents now dotting the perimeter of my basement.
At the top of the steps I was bowled over by a vivacious little boy who proudly announced that he fed the cats! As I peered over his sweet little shoulder I saw the blanket of kitty kibble enveloping the floor and the 3 pieces that made it to the bowl. Patting him on the head I grabbed the broom and dust pan. He looked at me questioningly and asked what I was doing. I explained that watching unassuming people walk onto a floor covered in marbles or kibble was only funny in cartoons or when they win $10,000 for doing it. For a brief moment I was tempted to grab the camcorder and yell for my "sleepy" spouse. Instead I handed the 4 year-old the broom and locked myself in the powder room until the thoughts of sweet payback passed.
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