Tuesday, October 11, 2016

Don't Let the Bed Bugs Bite...

When I was growing up, so many, many moons ago, groups of girls used to gather for sleepovers.  The more bodies you could talk your parents into, the better - never an easy sell  I suspect the parents on the other end of the equation were happy for the night off, though.  Not having raised any girls, I'm not 100% certain of that.  Boys had sleepovers, too, which involved much pizza, soda, belching, and shouting that generally had to be corralled when it oozes into hear-shot of the neighbors.  But that's another story all together.

I remember on certain sleepover at Polly's house.  We were in the basement, two stories away from others hoping for some sleep.  Monika fell asleep first, which is never a good thing.  Better to stay up all night.  Anyway, someone got the bright idea to wake her up while shining two flashlights in her eyes and yelling "truck!"  She had nightmares the rest of the night.  Apparently girl sleepovers are as squirrely as boy sleepovers, minus the belching.  Sorry, Monika...

Saturday night, I took part in another sleepover.  We slept in the basement, well, some of us did, and the exact number of souls sleeping there changed over the course of the night.  Aidan (5), Josiah (3), and Elijah (2) started the adventure.  Trying to be considerate, I plugged in a night light.  However, the shadows it cast were scarier than the darkness - a problem easily solved.  Having spend a napless afternoon keeping up with his brothers, Elijah was the first to fall asleep.  I protected him from even the slightest suggestion of a flashlight, and waited for his brothers to join him in slumber before finding a bed of my own.

My motherhood ears did not let me down, alerting me to a coughing child in the middle of the night.  I spend a very long half hour or so sitting in bed holding a weezy child until he drained properly.  Gratefully, he settled into a peaceful slumber.  Just as I was about to join him, Josiah announced his presence to the neighborhood, He was never able to articulate between his sobs just why he was crying.  But eventually, he settled down to sleep.  The sudden silence prompted Aidan to turn to me and ask "what's that sound?"  2:00 am is not a good time to explain a water softener.  Fortunately, he wasn't really that interested in the answer.

Back to bed next to a two year old, who was blissfully and animatedly sleeping.  That made one of us.  I spent much of the rest of the wee hours removing toddler hands and feet from various parts of my body.  6:30 arrived WAY ahead of schedule, ushered in by our barking dogs.  The little boy eyes laying next to me popped open.  I know this, because I'm not sure mine ever closed entirely the whole night.

What a great, exhausting, incoheriently comical night it turned out to be.  By 7:30 everyone was happily munching on Pop Tarts (breakfast of champions) and making plans for the rest of the morning.  Their mom and dad arrived in the early afternoon, refreshed after a quiet, restorative night together. 

By 2:00 pm, all the toys (and boys) had been returned to their designated locations.  I took a nap to ward off the feeling of having been hit by a truck, sans flashlights.  And just like sleepovers of old, I can't shake the feeling that I want to do it again!  Sleep tight, grandboys of mine!

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