Last week, we all got to bed pretty late. We were getting ready for a family reunion and The Daughters were pretty excited because they would get to spend all weekend with their cousins playing and swimming and doing things that the grown-ups would
never find out about. I was pretty excited because I still had about 14 loads of laundry left to do. Fine - maybe excited is not the word I'm looking for.
Eventually, we were able to get The Daughters into bed (again and again) and eventually they were asleep. The Dad and I finished packing up and went to bed ourselves. And by that I mean that I packed up while The Dad snoozed in his recliner and then stumbled to bed when I pulled his toes and shouted "Get up! You're snoring!"
After being in bed for about an hour, I remembered that we hadn't locked the front door OR put down the garage door so I kicked at The Dad and asked him to go secure our home. Then I kicked again. And again. Eventually, he turned over on his side and muttered, "Score!" Fine. I dragged my tired, laundry-doing-self out of the bed to lock and close our doors.
I had just settled my brain and been in a deep doze for about an hour when I heard something. I edged myself up on my elbow and poked The Dad to get him to wake up just a little bit (or at least get him to stop the honking noise that was emanating from his nose!). He did nothing.
Again, I heard a noise. They were footsteps. I was certain. I shook The Dad and hissed, "Someone's walking in the house!" At this, my fearful plea, The Dad kicked his feet from underneath the sheets. And then muttered, "Diffenferben" and without even opening his eyes just a tiny little bit, he resumed the snoring.
At this this time, I heard a door close. Someone was certainly in the house. I grabbed my phone, punched in 9-1-1 and, with my thumb resting on the green DIAL button, I proceeded to protect my family. The first thing I noticed was that Daughter 2's door was closed. My baby! Someone was in my baby's room! I screamed out, "Honey! I need you!" thinking that would surely get The Dad up and moving. Then I jerked open the door, dropping my phone in the process. I ran in to find Daughter 2, sitting at her vanity, fully dressed (with sneakers) putting on make-up! She screamed at me! I screamed at her!
"What are you doing?" I bellowed.
"Getting ready!" she hollered.
"For what?" I shrieked.
"The reunion!" she yelled.
So, at 1:18 in the morning, Daughter 2 and I came to the conclusion that she would, indeed go back to bed and she would get in bed with The Dad and me so that I could keep tabs on her. She protested. I dragged. She yelled. I wrestled. She screamed. I grunted. Eventually, we ended up back in my bed, where The Dad was now spooning my pillow. Using one hand to maintain custody of a fully-clothed Daughter 2, I commandeered my pillow back with the other hand. After throwing Daughter 2 in bed, I wrangled her shoes off of her, all the time she protested that she was not tired! She maintained that her being ready (including wearing her shoes) would save time in the morning. Eventually, I won though, and we were settled in for the night, with a shoeless (but still fully clothed) Daughter 2 firmly planted between me and The Dad - who had not so much as even changed his snorting pattern! I glanced at the clock. It was 1:58.
That morning as Daughter 2 and I were grumbling at each other, The Dad commented that neither of us were morning people. It was at this time that I vowed to set my alarm and pull one of his chest hairs out with tweezers every morning at 1:18! We'll see who's the morning person, now!
OH! And Happy Father's Day!!
