Three Kid Circus : Be careful what you wish for

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

Be careful what you wish for

So, yesterday I was going on about the inspiration to play imaginatively. I seem to get a twisted version of my wishes when I am not specific enough.

*Bares teeth and shakes fist at Parenting Gods*

Starting about one in the morning, the imaginations in my family kicked into overdrive. First my oldest woke up and stumbled into our room. She was half asleep, but was adamant that there was something looking in her window. She saw something, and it freaked her out, and she wasn't going to calm down until we checked it out, and let her sleep with us.

The hubs made his way into the big kids' room. The shade on their window stops about 6" from the window sill, leaving a narrow strip of window visible. I have got to get that replaced. He lifted the shade the rest of the way, gave the yard a thorough visual inspection, and then came back to our bed to reassure her, only to find her sawing logs. We scooted her into the middle of the mattress, and lay back down.

I should add here that the dog, Donna, is hypersensitive to noises outside our home. She is in constant motion through the night, patrolling the house and responding before I do to any kid disturbance. If we had a peeping tom or other uninvited guest, she would make sure everyone was awake and aware. I don't know if she would actually scare someone away, or be an effective protector, but we would at least have a heads-up. I would never leave a door or window unlocked, a sad commentary on the state of the world, but I figure it's better to be safe than sorry.

About five minutes after I finally fell asleep again, I heard shuffling feet enter our room. What now? "Mommy, I saw something in the closet," says my son. Really. Hmm. I grab the Monster Spray (a hair misting bottle, with plain ole water) and head for the closet. As I face down the closet opening, my son stands behind me, arms wrapped tight around my thighs and face pressed into my butt. I glance down at him, and he's got his face scrunched up, with one eye squinting at the closet. A couple of squirts, and I assure my son that nothing could have survived the Monster Spray, and motion him back to his bed.

He pivots on his heel and sprints to my bed. He wedges himself between my daughter and my husband and I decide to not care, since they are all on the hubs' side of the bed, and I can still lay down. Within minutes all three of them are snoring, and I'm watching the minutes change on the digital clock. 1:53. 1:54. 1:55.

"Mama! Mama! Down, Mama! Mamamamamamama Down! Down!" bursts out of the baby's room. Mumbling incoherently, I make my way to her room. She's standing in the crib, and begins to bounce up and down joyfully as I enter. "MA-ma! MA-ma!" punctuates each jump.

I notice my husband didn't draw her shade last night when he put her in the crib. The yard looks all silvery. I turn around to grab a blanket for the baby, and as I turn back, I see an old woman in the window, looking shocked. I stumble back, banging my back into the crib rail and step on a squeaky toy. IT'S MY OWN REFLECTION IN THE GLASS. Great. Apparently, I look about sixty at this time of morning. Luckily, I didn't scream, but it really scared me for a minute.

I got the baby a sippy cup of milk and she settled back down. I collapsed back in my bed at 3:00, and found myself unable to go back to sleep. I got up for good at 4:30 to enjoy the quiet house for a while. I forget what it's like to hear my own thoughts sometimes, and a good dose of silence is a good thing.

The moral of this story is: Imagination, smagination. I need some sleep, because I'm seeing things and my reflection looks like an old woman.