Its late. Other than the sound of old crime show reruns and the occasional click of my mouse as I scroll though old Cracked articles, the house is completely quiet. Everyone is finally asleep. I think it may be okay for me to go on to bed.
I slowly get up so my chair doesn’t creak, reach over and turn off the TV, which was the only light in the house and carefully work my way through the house towards my room. In the hallway I step on something hard, plastic and pointy and quickly bring both hands up to cover my mouth mid F-bomb. As I bounce in circles on one foot, whispering a string of profanities in never before heard combinations, I swear to myself that in the morning I will throw away every single small plastic toy in the house. Once the searing pain that only a lego can bring subsides I take a deep breath, stand silently for a moment to make sure I didn’t wake anyone with my lego induced cursing and inspect my foot to make sure there is no blood. Satisfied that I wasn’t gashed, and that I woke none of my children, I resume my dark trek towards the bedroom.
I grasp the doorknob firmly and turn it slowly so it doesn’t make any noise and carefully open the door, lifting up slightly to keep it from screeching, enter the bedroom, slowly turn the knob back in the other direction and carefully release my grip. Then, just as carefully and quietly as the first time, I grip the other side of the knob and slowly turn it, carefully close the door and, like a moron, quickly release the knob, producing the loudest click I’ve ever heard. I freeze and listen. As I stand completely motionless in my bedroom I listen for the sounds of waking children… all is quiet… whew, that was close.
I slowly creep through my bedroom, arms waving in all directions in a way that I’m pretty sure makes me look like a novice interpretative dancer, or maybe a mime… probably a mime, trying not to lose my bearings and, DAMN IT! I bash my big toe against the chest of drawers that’s only been in that exact spot since freaking forever. I hold my breath to keep from cursing and screaming and crying like a child whose band aid has fallen off in the bathtub and again, I stand perfectly still and listen in the darkness for a whine, a moan, the rustling of blankets…nothing… good… damn that hurts.
I’m almost there. Slowly and cautiously I make my way to the side of my bed, I gently pull back the covers and slip silently between the sheets, lie down and cover up. I stare at the wall a moment to make sure everything is still quiet and, once I’m confident that no one has woken up I close my eyes, snuggle down into the sheets and get comfortable. Suddenly, I hear a high pitched, shrill scream and jump from the comfort of my warm soft bed, rush across the room, stick a binky in the mouth of the unhappy infant and stroke her cheek until she falls back to sleep. Finally, I creep back to my bed, lie back down and let out a sigh of relief and exhaustion, close my eyes and let myself start drifting off when I hear a less shrill high pitched scream, leap back out of bed and run over to give the other infant child his binky, bundle him back up in his blankie and hold his hand till he’s passed back out.
Once again, I fumble across the room, lie down in my bed, close my eyes and begin dozing off when, SonOfABitch! My husband rolls over and elbows me square in the eye. As I curl into a protective ball and curse the day I decided it would be a good idea to have a family, both of my darling infants are abruptly startled awake and begin crying. Screw it. I guess we’re up for a while. I take them both into the living room and give them each a bottle, we play for a bit, change diapers and head back to bed. As soon as I get them laid down I lay myself down. Feeling quite drunk from sleep deprivation, I immediately start to fall into blissful, overdue slumber… then… “Mommy? I need to go potty! Can you come turn on the light?” Fuck it; I’m up.