Saturday, April 10, 2010

Sick Pyschic

How is it that I can't use my telepathic powers for GOOD and not EVIL? As in, I just *know* when someone is going to wake up and exorcist-vomit all over my floor, but I can't pick winning lottery tickets for shizzle. I know it's not EXACTLY telepathy but seriously, I can call it. Last night I said "2 am" and I had that sucker on the NOSE.

And it's weird; a lot changes when you become a mother. (Your thighs for one. Just saying.) I can be totally asleep, in the middle of some fabulous dream involving creme brulee and me boating around the Caribbean, and then the Mommy Brain hears "MOMMMY! I think I'm going to barf!!!!" and I'm half-way down the hall, leaping over stray leggos like an Olympian before my eyes ever snap open. I have the bucket in one hand, the Lysol in the other and I'm not even fully AWAKE. That's what changes.

We'll just say that happened approximately 12 times last night. Between "Mommmmy! I need the bucket!!!!" and "Mommmmmmy!!!! I'm in your bathrooooom!!!" I think I snagged about 10 actual minutes of sleep.

Daddy said he woke up too.

Daddy lied, kids.

Daddy was mumbling and tossing and snoring. These are all basic signs of what I call "being totally ASLEEP."

Daddies DO NOT grow a special brain part that can hear a distress call at 2 am. It's basic biology/evolution. (I'm sure Darwin wrote about it somewhere.)

Daddies do, on the other hand, hear imaginary signs of armed invaders breaking into your house at 3 am. Then they pace around and brandish whatever handy weapon of choice they have. (Christopher Walken NOT included. *shudder*)

Again, I'm sure it's basic biology.

Either way, Your Favorite Writer gets stuck holding the bucket. I'd rather be holding the lottery ticket.

Comments, questions, are you sick-psychic?

0 comments: