If you wake up every few hours starving, your underpants are sopping wet, and your feet occasionally get stuck up inside your froggy covered feety jammies, then you would know what it means to “sleep like a baby”. While those things don’t sound awfully appealing I often find myself staring enviously at my responsibility and carefree snoozing little ones, wishing that I could sleep as they do.
However, with the many adult tasks to be accomplished sleep often falls by the wayside. I read somewhere once that a parent loses around 6 months of sleep in the first two years of their child’s life. Two kids equal the loss of one year, add in working night shift, and my somewhat implausible desire to be super mom, and it can be safely assumed that I am more often awake than asleep.
When the glorious time to visit snoozeville does roll around, I am often intolerant of interruptions that do not involve my children. Tonight was no different. After finally convincing myself that I had done all that I could possibly do in one day, I climbed in bed and turned off the tv. Without the background noise, the ambience of the room became even more noticeable. The chainsaw, that was my husband, was serenely echoed by epileptic beagle snores, and snooty shitzu snorts. Through it all, however, came a noise that would soon drive me to madness; a cricket.
Jimminey was happily sitting directly under my window chirping incessantly. someone must have loaned him a loud speaker. The horrendous sound was becoming like nails on a chalk board. The years worth of sleep deprivation was catching up to me, and in this moment and all I could focus on was getting rid of the amplified insect! I lept from the bed, glaring at my husband, who was oblivious to my plight, grabbed a broom and stalked outside. I would like to add what a wonderful thing a privacy fence is. The men in white coats would have been called for sure had my neighbors been witness to the chaos that ensued in mu backyard.
Rockin my bed head hair, husband size shirt, and Mickey pajama pants, I stalked across the back yard weilding my weapon of choice. As I neared the bedroom window I noticed that a silence had filled the area. No Jimminey, he must be busy quaking in fear. I had heard that crickets will stop their irritating chirping in the presence of someone unknown, unsure of his hiding spot and wanting to ensure that I chased the now silent-but-waiting cricket away, I began to smack spastically and frantically at the grass all around the window and side of the house. Certain that my madness had frightened off every living thing within swatting distance, I triumphantly returned to the house.
I stood proudly at the entrance of my bedroom and listened. Through my husband, the jet plane, snores and the accompanying dogs, I could still hear it; that immortal cursed cricket. How could he have survived?! I ran to the window in an attempt to determine his whereabouts and plot my next attack. I listened carefully, surprise filled my mind when I realized that the crafty critter had taken up residence in the dog bed. Grabbing a weapon, I knelt down. With shoe poised to strike I yanked back the dogs blanket and swung. With mere centimeters left, I pulled out of my attack before I smashed Abi’s sound machine into smithereens.
Jimminey was no more than a battery operated soother, meant to fill your room with serene forest sounds. Abi had been running around with her “computer” throughout the day and had obviously forgotten it. With the batteries removed glorious silence filled the room. I climbed back in bed to fall asleep to the soothing sounds of “freight train” and his friends.
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