Why I wake up looking like I just wrestled a hyena

0

Before we get to that hyena business, I’d like to pass on the award I received from The Drama Mama over at The Scoop on Poop and wrote about during my last post to five other blogs.  Most of them are relatively new to me and I am so glad I found them.  A couple of them make me laugh out loud and the rest inspire me for different reasons!  Now, you boys listen…you won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t want to hang up the “Beautiful Blog” award on your blog wall.  I just want to get the word out that you write some funny stuff!

Now on to the hyena business:

8:00 p.m.
After Bocephus (2) and Charlie Pride (5) have been hosed off outside and have changed into their pajamas, we read 235 books before bedtime. If they beg, we make it 238.  It does not take as long as you think to read all of those books because we are speed readers (like Johnny 5 in the 1986 movie “Short Circuit”).  We do, however, have to take constant breaks at the Ozarka water cooler that we have moved into Charlie Pride’s room as that much reading can result in serious dehydration.  Many of the books we read to them are library books, which are grossly overdue.  I tell them to enjoy the heck out of those books as it is very likely we will be banned from ever entering the library again once we finally return them.  I also tell them that one of them may have to be left as collateral.  When they ask what collateral means, I act as if I have fallen into a deep slumber. 

8:30 p.m.

After lots of sentimental and  mushy prayers, songs, hugs and night-night kisses, we shut their doors.  As soon it is fully closed, “The Rhythm of the Night” by DeBarge immediately begins to play, which is accompanied by skipping through the house and awkward dance movements:

8:45 p.m.

Bocephus opens his door which results in the magically piped in DeBarge to SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECCCCCCCCCCCCH to a halt.  Bocephus is placed back in bed.  Door closes, which makes the magically piped in music suddenly begin again.  “…dance until the morning light…”
8:47 p.m.
Bocephus opens his door again.  DeBarge sighs heavily.  They all look at each other and wonder why they ever took this gig to begin with in the first place.

8:50 p.m.

Bocephus opens his door again.  DeBarge is overheard to say “I’m outta here”, which really dampens the festive atmosphere in the house.  Because it is getting late and there are DVR’d shows to watch (Community!),  Bocephus has left us no choice but to get out the Velcro pajama/sheet set.  He is placed in his pajamas with soft bristles on the back and firmly placed on the now puffy sheets.

8:51-11:00 p.m.

Bocephus falls asleep in spite of the Velcro pajama set.  Charlie Pride continues to sleep.  We watch Community.  I act like Cinderella and clean up the house.  I pray for mice and birds to appear out of nowhere to help me with the dishes and laundry, but…nothing.  When I realize they really aren’t coming, I start getting an attitude like Cinderella has over here on the right.

11:01 p.m.

After finishing up a quilt, doing 3,462 crunches, flossing and organizing my sock drawer, it’s time to go to sleep.  Chris and I marvel at how, if our bed were made of snow, we could make snow angels in it with all the extra space.  I then get lost in thought about how, if it were really made of snow, I would probably not fall asleep well and would wake up with missing toes.  All of this nonsense swirling around in my head about snow in my bed makes me…drift…off….to…sleep……until…

11:53 p.m.

Charlie Pride arrives with his big stuffed animal and says he has a bad dream.  He gets in bed between us.  No more snow angels.  I am now trying to sleep while teetering off the bed.  I imagine that if I take one wrong turn, the alligators that are surely swimming in my carpet down below will eat my face off.  How will I meet my friends tomorrow for lunch in that condition?  Before you start judging my mental competency, remember I am half asleep here…and then whole asleep….

2:00-4:30 a.m.

Bocephus begins to cry from his Velcro bed.  I jump out of bed and get one of my legs chomped off from that blasted alligator I had forgotten about.  I decide my baby is worth it and hobble upstairs with blood spewing everywhere.  I lament the fact that I will have to get all the walls repainted but continue to drag my bleeding stump to the second floor. I also decide that the Velcro was a bit inhumane.  I change his clothes, lay him back in a normal bed and decide I should just sleep on the floor beside his bed.  I don’t feel like dealing with those alligators downstairs again anyway.  I would rather sleep on the hard, hard, hard floor and keep my baby content.  I somehow sleep on something that feels much like the picture above for 2 1/2 hours. 

4:35 a.m.

Smoke alarm goes off due to wacked out batteries.  Kids do not wake up.  We wake up.  We become grouchy.  I hobble back downstairs, jump back over those alligators and climb back into bed with my husband and Charlie Pride…after moving CP back into the center of the bed.  It is hard to go back to sleep as my hair now looks like this guy’s:

5:30-6:30

I manage to drift off to a state between asleep and awake (do not consult a map of the USA as you will be completely disappointed), but then am absolutely fully awakened by my husband’s morning talk show-blarin’ alarm.

And that, my friends, is why I wake up looking like I just tried to put this thing in a headlock:

*that sock monkey angel is from http://www.tellmewhereonearth.com/

Share.

Leave A Reply