This post-a-day thing I told myself I would do is a good idea. It compels me to write even when I don’t feel like it. Some nights though, I’ve just got nothing.
Nights around here are much better than they used to be. I can usually count on at least four uninterrupted nights of sleep per week, which is nice. But nowadays when a bad one comes along, it throws me for a loop even worse than when I could count on being up every night.
Cameron came upstairs last night at 3:05 am. As in O-THREE-HUNDRED. He tried to sneak into my room unnoticed. When I told him to get lost (I can’t remember if I used those exact words or not) and go sleep in Alex’s room if he wanted to be up here, I thought he’d go back to bed. Instead I heard him rummaging through the kitchen drawers. At THREE OH FIVE in the morning.
“Cameron! Get OUT of the kitchen. What are you DOING?”
I honestly can’t even remember his response. I went over to see what was going on and he said he wanted to sleep on the couch. The poor kid had a terrible stuffy nose. Allergies. I gave him some medication and I really have no idea where he went after that because the next thing I knew the dog was up, Alex was up, and Justin was up. Alex was undressed from the waist down and needed help in the bathroom. Justin wanted milk. I let Penny go outside. Justin went back to bed. Alex decided he was moving in with Barry and me, lock, stock and barrel. And Penny started rummaging through trash cans. By the time I threw the dog into the kennel so I wouldn’t have to keep taking items of clothing, shoes, and other random items she managed to locate in the dark, it was closer to four than to three.
That just really doesn’t work. There’s really never a good reason to be up at three in the morning. Except for “people who work at NORAD and are on 24-hour missile watch.”
© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2011