Thursday, November 10, 2011

Ten Foot Poles

make me happy.


And while we're on the topic of beds... remember the other night when I was so tired I went to bed at 8:26pm?

Just me and the three monitors, each with one deeply sleeping babe on the other end.


Or so I thought.

Kelly and Sandy hadn't been out the door for more then 20 minutes when Edison started up.

I had clear instructions to let her be. "She might cry a bit but, she'll stop. We usually don't go down there before 5am."

And sure enough she stopped. Perfect, let's get our sleep on.

Hold on! What's that? I sit up and look across the room at the monitors and now Evan's is lit up like a disco party. So I'm thinking, 'They really didn't tell me what to do about Evan if he gets up. Probably because he usually doesn't.'

Well if he doesn't usually get up, and he is, there must be something wrong.

Up, out of bed, and off I go to Evan's room.

"Hey buddy you okay?" I think he mumbled something about his music box being off. Okay, I can fix this, even though it was dark and I not well versed with his funky equipment, I fumbled around trying to solve the problem as best I could. As I was unsure if Evan realized it was me and not his mom I refused to turn on the light and ruin the dream. And although I didn't solve the problem the little guy got so bored waiting for me to that he fell back asleep.

Damn I'm good.

Okay sleep, here I come.

Twenty minutes later, disco show! Evan again.

"Where's my mommy?!? Where's my mommy!?!"

Shit! He knew it was me. Well I can't let him carry on and on in desperation for his mommy.

Up, out and off I go.

Probably a half dozen move times until Kelly and Sandy come home around midnight.


At which point Kelly walks into my room, kind of tip toeing, kind of wobbling, headed right toward me in my bed.

"The monitors are over there by the door where you came in." I remind her, slightly frightened as to why she's coming so close to me.

But my words don't stop her. She's still coming!

I yell whisper now, dreadfully concerned she wants to kiss me, or something equally as mushy, to thank me for watching the kids, "Over there! By the door! Look behind you!"

"What?!? Oh yeah. Why are you yelling at me?" she asks.

Because I thought you were going to get drunk sappy on me.

"I'm not! Just tired okay!"

"Okay. Thanks."

Music to my ears. A verbal thanks. The most perfect way for an intoxicated person could express gratitude toward me.

You remember I'm a bartender right? I have the right to be concerned!

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