A few nights ago, 11:20pm. Neil and I were heading upstairs to bed, when I peeked in on the kids as I always do. A groan came from Boring Office Guy’s bed. “Still awake?” I asked.
“I did all of those somersaults earlier tonight and now my brain feels like it’s still tumbling, even when I am being still. The only time I feel normal is when the bed is moving,” he replied. I sympathetically suggested he try lying on his stomach, wished him goodnight, and left the room.
A few minutes later we heard both boys talking. BOG didn’t like the sleeping-on-the-stomach idea, and Flufy was brainstorming ways to help. (At this time of night, BOG usually gets a wee bit dramatic, and Flufy usually gets incredibly helpful.) A sleepy Neil mumbled to me, “give him a vitamin and tell him that will make the tumbling stop.” What’s a little white lie (one with a nutritional boost, at that) in the interest of getting everyone to sleep? So I went back in his room, vitamin in one hand, barf bucket in the other, and told him that the vitamin should make him feel better, and the bucket was there “just in case.” Everything would be fine.
BOG thought maybe he should visit the bathroom. The lights were out in the house by now, so I flipped on my flashlight and shined it towards the door for him, followed him out, and into my own room. Before long, both boys were standing next to our bed. BOG was wondering how he was going to fall asleep, if he needed motion to do so. Flufy said, “I think I know how to help him. I’ll need duct tape and a sheet.”
It was about this time that I considered hopping onto Twitter and live-blogging the conversation.
I resisted, however, giggling to myself while Neil explained to Flufy the fatal flaws inherent in a duct-tape hammock plan.
“Can I climb into your bed to give you a hug?” Flufy asked. Never one to refuse a hug, I of course agreed. BOG hopped in, too, and before long many minutes had passed.
There we were, the four of us, in the dark, in the same bed, the boys not going back to their own rooms, and we not asking them to.
An hour later, I was wedged between my two growing boys, unable to roll over or move my left arm. One child’s leg was slung over my hip, the other child’s curly hair tickled my chin. And I found myself thinking how strange it was that one could be so utterly uncomfortable and yet so content at the same time. These days of children snuggling in our bed are so fleeting. There’s a part of me that is surprised that it is actually still happening now and again.
Summer is officially over now, and as of this morning I am the mother of a middle-school-aged child. How we go from preschool to middle school in what feels like no more than a week is a phenomenon I find hard to understand (and sometimes hard to accept).
That’s all I wrote. And you know, it’s been a year and I still find the passage of time to be a funny thing. I probably always will. As much as it feels like having toddlers was a recent thing, it also feels like so long ago that maybe it didn’t really happen to me at all. I can barely imagine what it felt like. I wish I had been blogging then, or journaling in some way. That time would be so much easier to recall, if I could flip back and read about the old days once in a while. Good thing I took pictures!
Speaking of pictures, you are probably wondering why there is a chicken photo illustrating this post. It’s because chickens are cute in a weird kind of way, and photo-less posts are boring.