Wednesday, November 5, 2008


Hubby is out of town again. That means that the entire time he is gone, I have three children and a dog in bed with me. For the past three nights, I have slept at the end of my bed, with a pillow and a blanket. Keith has snored and kicked me in the head. Emma has a cough that won't go away. Amy talks until she passes out, then grinds her teeth. And the dog feels the need to sleep as close to me as possible, on the side furthest away from the children (can't say I blame her...)

This morning I woke up feeling like I had been hit by a semi truck. My neck has a huge crick in it. All my joints hurt. After sitting down for any period of time, I look like a 90-year old woman trying to get up and hobble across the room. But I'm sure it will eventually pass (right?).

Because I am tired of begging, pleading, yelling and threatening, I have banned the kids from doing anything until their homework is done, piano is practiced and rooms are clean. They have been successful at two of the three. Their rooms still look like FEMA should be showing up with some assistance soon.

Surprisingly, I have had very little opposition on this ban. They have been completely content to hang out and play with each other.

Whenever they ask to watch television, play the computer or go play with a friend, I ask, "Is your room clean?"

"No," they say simply, and walk away.

"Are you going to clean it?" I call after them.

"Uhm... Not right now," they call back, as they go catch up with their siblings.


Usually they can't be in the same room together without World War III breaking out. But since none of them can go out or have other distractions, they are content to be with each other. So much so, that they curl up together like hot, sweaty puppies in my bed each night, leaving me and the dog to fend for ourselves at the end.

It's kind of nice, actually.

I know it won't last. It can't. Keith is bordering on "teenager" and has turned into a snarky, snide, wise-cracking big brother, who tortures his sisters in a soft voice so I can't hear.

Emma has had quite enough of Keith and his "brooding" and moodiness. She has learned how to get in her digs in such a way that they never see it coming, and they're not really sure what happened when it's all over.

Amy pulls no punches. She says what she means- loudly. And she's quick to let me, and anyone else within earshot, know a point by point list of all the things Keith and Emma are doing that is wrong. (Then she doesn't understand why they don't want to play with her much...)

But for now- for at least this one more night before hubby gets back home and the kids are regaled back to their respective sleeping arrangements- we will snuggle together again.
Keith will still snore and kick me. Emma is still coughing. Amy is still trying not to sleep by talking. And the dog is still playing opossum.

But we will snuggle. We will tell stories. We will say prayers. We will sing songs. And then we will sleep.

Until it's time to get up and get going in the morning and enjoy the new day.

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