The kids have had a rough week sleep-wise. There was the day Seconda decided to wake at
Over the weekend, Primo woke at 4:45am, and I quickly ushered him into our bed, because if he’s awake alone, there’s a chance I can get him to go back to sleep, or at least watch TV while we sleep but if he wakes his sister, we are not only up shit’s creek without a paddle but without a boat. We will DROWN in shit’s creek if both he and his sister are awake. So I brought him into bed with us and he did doze off but slept so fitfully it was really hard to tell he was asleep.
“NO!” he yelled in his sleep, “DON”T LET SECONDA GET IT!!”
I find it hilarious that he spends his sleeping hours worrying about the same thing he does while awake. Must keep the prized possessions away from ratty kid sister. This is the stuff that (bad) dreams are made on . . .
So, what with all this, I woke this morning dog-tired. You know when you get so tired that nothing can wake you -- even the children jumping on you in bed and screaming as they kick and punch each other and reporting to you that their brother or sister is eating an entire box of cookies. That’s how tired I was.
David came home from his workout to find me still in bed. He brought me a cup of coffee and I slowly began to join the land of the living.
“I am just SO TIRED.” I moaned, “I don’t know why.”
Which was just something to say, not true at all. Of course I do know why, precisely why and the reason for my fatigue is my kids wake me up all night with piercing screams of pain and agony.
But instead of assuring me that I had plenty of good reason to be tired, my husband, issued a highly ill-advised reply.
“Well’’, he said, “You’re not as young as you used to be/”
Gasp. Horror. Not even employing the courteous “we” as in “we’re not as young as we used to be.” Just a
balls-out announcement before 8am, before I’ve even gotten to the half-way point in my coffee, that I am OLD.
AND THAT”S NOT ALL.
He then continued on, in a perfect example of adding insult to injury: “And your metabolism is slowing down.”
“WHOA!” I cried,“Whoa now! Why do you need to bring my METABOLISM into this? I don’t see how that’s material whatsoever. There’s no call for that, no call for that at all.”
“I just mean –“
“Maybe you just shouldn’t say anything else, while I ponder on those nuggets for a while.”
Has this man never met me before? Is this our first time at the rodeo?
I think it was a teachable moment. For him, the lesson was, never throw around the word metabolism without serious forethought and certainly not in the same sentence as “you’re not as young as you used to be.” And for me, maybe a little less complaining, much as I do cherish it. I was born to kvetch. But, I guess, that’s what blogs are for.
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