I am posting this for posterities sake, and also because my family thinks it's really weird that I have such crazy nights like this. Maybe this will prove that we have incredibly bad luck and that it's out of my control. Reguardless, it warrents a few good laughs.
To start out, Johnny had his friend Max over last night... so the two of them and Eden camped out in sleepbags in Edens room, had some snacks and watched Mary Poppins. They were all zonked by 10:00. Piece of cake. I fell asleep watching Sex and the City at about 12:30. Ahh... so peaceful.
At about 1:30 John and I wake with a start because Eden is half-racing, half-tumbling towards the stairs in her sleep. We both shout, "STOP!" at which point she races towards us bawling. Pull her into bed with us where she is nearly unconsolable. I finally get her cradled in my arm and she says, "Mommy... I don't like your stinky breath." "Let me brush my teeth." WHAT?! Why did I do that? I suppose the appropriate response would be to turn over or ignore her, but at 1:30 am all I'm thinking is, "Oh no, someone doesn't like my breath! I should go brush my teeth." So I head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Now we're remodeling our bathroom and don't have a sink right now, so I have to use the roaring water of the bathtub. I crawl back in bed where she is, of course, dead asleep. I start to doze off again.
I wake up because Eden is, AGAIN, crying and pulling at her jammies, complaining that she can't cover her butt. I snuggle her to me and get a handful of soft butt cheeks: no panties on. Now, when you're the mom of a 3 1/2 year old you stop questioning these kind of things. "Do you want panties on?" Yes, she says through her tears, she does. I stumble towards her room where I've forgotten Max and Johnny are sleeping and trip on little legs and fingers. Thankfully they are deep sleepers. Get the undies on Eden, go back to sleep.
About 2:30 we wake to the bathroom and hallway lights on and Johnny calling John from the bathroom. Diarrhea. WTH? John helps him clean up, Johnnys says, "Goodnight Dad!" and heads back to bed. I am on the very edge of the bed because Eden is hogging my side, but I drift back off.
3:30 am. There is a little boy in face saying, "I don't feel good." I think at first that it's Johnny. Nope. It's Max, standing bare-chested and sporting a Rescue Heroes necklace. "What's wrong?"
He shrugs his shoulders. "Do you think you might throw-up?" He nods his head and I instruct him to head to the bathroom and I'll be there in a minute. He is vomitting his insides out by the time I get there. I take him downstairs and call Julie. While I'm on the phone with her he rushes back upstairs. Diarrhea. He comes back down with a fever. Good Lord. Derek comes to pick him up. I crash on the couch. It's about 4:00.
At about 4:30 I hear this terrible crashing noise. Scares the crap out of me. The cat has tried to jump up onto this tiny little shelf where John displays all his leather animals. Everything has plummeted to the desk below. I pray that nothing has broken and fall back asleep.
Probably about 5:00 the dog is whining and whining and whining. She NEVER asks to go out before we are up. Maybe she knows I'm on the couch. I try igorning her, but she is more and more persistent so I get up and let her out.
The kids come down at about 8:00. Johnny can't figure out where Max is and they're asking for food when I know plain well that we have NO breakfasty things in the house. I tell them to find whatever they want, I don't care, I just need to SLEEP. They snack on Gatorade, dry Cap'n Crunch and toast that Johnny made. Johnny tries to use one of my Making Memories tools to pry the toast out of the toaster (ack!) and Eden keeps giving me hugs and saying, "I've fallen in love with you."
I am quite certain that we did not do this to our parents, so it can't be karma biting us in the rear. It's just some sort of parenting epidemic that we have fallen prey to.
If you have nights like this, I need to get an AMEN!from you.