Mistaken Identity: When Someone Scares the Poo Out of You in the Middle of the Night

Over ten years ago when my husband was in construction, I was visiting my mom with our toddler son when I got a phone call.  My husband said he injured his back at work while using a sawzall. He had been holding it above his head when it kicked back and the pain was so bad, his arms were kind of stuck in the air.  His boss drove him to the ER where he was prescribed strong pain pills and muscle relaxers.  They said he would have to be closely monitored to make sure he kept breathing.  He told me, “I already took them, so will you come home?”

I have always been a light sleeper and was expecting to be even more so that night as I worried about him possibly dying.  That night of all nights, I fell into a rare, wonderful, deep sleep.  Not even our son was waking me up!  Then about 2am, my husband started shaking me.

Him:  There’s someone at the door.

Me:  Yeah, whatever.  (I’m thinking, “You’re on drugs and you’re imagining it.”)

Him:  No, there really is!  They’ve been knocking for a long time.

Me:  Uh huh.

That’s when I heard the knocking.  Oh no.  Who knocks at 2am except for a serial killer?  I moved cautiously towards the door, replaying various horror movies in my head as I was determined not to be the character who makes the worst move humanly possible like running up the stairs instead of out of the house for help.

I quietly started inching towards the phone as if the serial killer wouldn’t come in and kill me as long as I was very quiet.  Isn’t this the part where the man was supposed to get up and check on things while the wife and child remained safe?  Oh that’s right. He couldn’t move.  This would end badly.

Again I heard a knock and this time a man yelling, “OPEN THE DOOR!!!!”  Oh no.  The serial killer was angry we wouldn’t let him in to off us all!  “Oh nooooooooooo ……” my voice trembled as I tried to remember the number to 911.


The police?  Maybe I should have called 911 anyway to verify that it wasn’t a serial killer claiming to be a cop, but I walked in front of the door in a scared, but still very disoriented state.  “What’s going on?”


I decided since he was no longer using individual words, I should open the door.

Actual cop (who wasn’t a serial killer):  Ma’am, we got a call that there was a domestic disturbance here.

Me:  Huh? ……………. Are you sure you have the right apartment?

Cop:  Yes, we’re sure.

Me:  *staring in confusion*

Cop: Where’s your husband, ma’am?

Me:  Asleep ……

Cop:  Can we have a look around?

Me:  Uh huh …….

The cop entered part of our apartment and briefly shined his flashlight around.  I thought he was going to go into our bedroom and maybe determine I had put my husband in his disabled condition, but thankfully not.

Cop:  I guess we have the wrong place.

Me:  Yep.

I’m still dying to know, did our neighbor hate us and make a false call?  We were in A201.  Did the dispatcher hear it wrong on the phone?  K201?  J201?

I think it took me about three hours to fall back to sleep after that.



Eating Your Husband’s Chocolate: A Self-Help Guide

I don’t suppose this is a common problem, but if your husband is a chocolate hoarder and has a stash within your reach during difficult moments, you’re going to need some justifications that he will accept and still want to be married to you.

First, some reasons why you may need to eat his chocolate.

  1.  You only got 7 1/2 hours of sleep or less.
  2. People are being annoying.
  3. You were on hold for a lengthy amount of time.
  4. You were on hold for a short amount of time.
  5. You had to call a business that asks you to speak your answer and there were children yelling in the background, causing the wrong option to be chosen no less than ten times.  Just give up and yell, “CHOCOLATE!!!!”  There’s a special place in Hell for these people who don’t think about the many mothers who can’t get a quiet moment and therefore can’t use voice activated systems.  Maybe I’m taking it a bit overboard?  No.  No I’m not.  Give it a try sometime.  You’ll feel homicidal in no time.
  6. You like chocolate a lot.  If it’s been there for 6 months, it’s obviously not that important to him.
  7. It’s bad for his health.  You’re just taking one for the team!
  8. You’re hormonal.  Either you’re on your period, ovulating, pregnant, menopausal, or on any day in your cycle.
  9. You’re sick.  *cough cough*  See?  I’m sick right now.
  10. You’re doing taxes.
  11. It’s expired.  You love him and don’t want him to die.
  12. You realize the real reason he saves it is for you.  HE LOVES YOU.

As an example, the other day I was looking for something in my husband’s special drawer (I was looking for chocolate) and I noticed an astounding amount of uneaten chocolate still leftover from Christmas and maybe even earlier.  You can’t just flaunt Almond Roca in my face (in your drawer) and expect me not to eat it!

And that Milka bar?  It expired last month!  HE LET EUROPEAN CHOCOLATE EXPIRE?!  This morning I took some life saving measures and decided to eat part of it to see if it was OK.  It was delicious.  But if I left some of it in the wrapper, he would know I ate some.  Now I had to commit to eating the whole thing.  What was I going to do – put it in my drawer and save it for later?  I would never do that.

But now I had some explaining to do.  Would the expiration story be enough?  So I started working on our taxes and he knows how much I detest doing that.  I obviously deserved the chocolate!  But now that I’m done working on them (except I’m waiting on one form), I feel like I need chocolate again.  His chocolate pistachio bar is not expired.  Do I change the expiration date with a pen or do I exercise some self-control?

Whatever you do, if you write a blog post about eating his chocolate, don’t show it to him.  I could go out and buy him more chocolate, but let’s face it.  I will eat it in 6 months.

Iron Will

We thought this week would be a good time to give sleep training another try. It finally got quiet and when our son checked on her without our permission, he found her like this. It doesn’t help that her teething is lasting forever. No, she didn’t stay asleep for long and I decided we’re going to have to replace the crib with a Pack and Play unless those mesh bumpers work.


Signs That You Are In A Toddler Induced State of Desperation

The saddest childhood development stage ever is the moment you wonder, “Where did my sweet little baby go?”

The cooing, giggling, sighing, and long, sleepy cuddles are replaced with screaming, more screaming, louder screaming, followed by deafening screams.  Today a friend said the last child is always the loudest.  That settles it.  We’re not having any more or else there will be no hearing for anyone in our family!

Does anyone know any talent agents for babies?  I think mine could lay down an entire soundtrack for a horror movie.

This is basically how my day goes.  I wake up next to her (the fact that she’s in my bed is another subject) and even though we cuddled all night and I might even spend the next hour singing to her, playing peek-a-boo, etc., she becomes extremely offended the second I lay her down, even if it’s just to change her diaper.

If I put her in her highchair, she screams.

If we’re on the couch together and I stand up, she screams.  If I take three steps away from her, she screams twice as loud.

I can’t go to the bathroom without her screaming.

I can’t shower without her screaming.

I feel like I’m in the boot camp from Hell.  Only I love the drill instructor so much!

So during the increasingly rare moments lately when she’s being really cute, I don’t dare mess with it.  Or she might just start to get upset about something and sometimes we can do a quick save.

My 7-year-old: But it’s my bear!


You see that?  I just told my 7-year-old to give in to her awful behavior.  What kind of terrible mother am I?  A desperate one whose day has been at least 80% screaming unless I listen to all of the well-meaning people who tell me dishes, laundry, and cleaning don’t matter because they’re only little for so long.  So you’re OK with my family starving because there aren’t any clean dishes to cook with or eat on?  I’m pretty sure you would prefer we all wear clean laundry.  I would prefer my house be clean enough to not cause an infestation.

The other day I was feeding my baby and she decided she wanted to feed me back.  It was adorable.  Then I realized, “I am letting a 14-month-old move a fork towards my face.  Anything could happen.  She might do nothing other than drop some food and actually get some food in my mouth.  Or without any warning, she might suddenly jab me in the eye.  I’m so desperate for her not to scream, I am willing to maybe be stabbed in the face with a fork!”

I am willing to cuddle with her while I feed her because maybe she won’t get “that much” food on me.

I am willing to fall asleep on the couch with her in the most uncomfortable position until my arm is asleep and I accidentally fall asleep in the process.  Today I had a dream I was taking a bath in our clogged kitchen sink and my arm felt all weird as I was trying to pull things out of the drain.  Turns out it was because my arm was asleep.  I was so disoriented from my sleep deprivation, I wasn’t sure where I was and had a fun sleep paralysis attack.  I have had multiple dreams lately about being exhausted.  All I want to do in my dream is lie down and go to sleep.  That’s right.  I’m so tired, I’m tired in my sleep!

My sleep deprivation has turned me into a complete wuss.  I keep thinking about the book “The Miracle Worker” where Helen Keller is an out of control child because her family lets her act that way.  She can run around grabbing whatever food she wants and eating like a savage because her family figures it’s her only joy in life and she’s not capable of being  disciplined because she can’t hear or see.  Then hero Anne Sullivan swoops in and lays down the law:  This child can learn and she can follow rules!

I need to channel my inner Anne Sullivan.  Or the mom I was when I got more than four hours of sleep per night.  With my previous toddlers, I told my older children, “Don’t give in to their screaming!”

Maybe you’re wondering, “How are you even writing this?”  Because I nursed her to sleep while typing.  It’s now 12:21am.  Her body is on my lap.  Her head is on my wrist.  And she’s kind of pinned between my abdomen and the edge of my desk.  Probably neither of us is comfortable, but she’s comfortable enough to sleep through it.

I’m going to take her upstairs to our bed now where eventually our bodies will form the letter H. Of course, the middle part of the H will be kicking the other two parts, whining, and kicking off the blanket.  Why is she so anti-blanket?!  I think she’s superhuman.  It can be totally cold in our room and she doesn’t care.

In summary, if you have a toddler and you:

a.  Look like a zombie

b.  Are covered unnecessarily in food

c.  Let your toddler aim a sharp object at your face

d.  Let them get away with murder

e.   Haven’t slept in like two years

You have toddler-induced desperation like me.  Wuss!  I mean, I’m sorry.  Let’s be friends!

Titanic Review: Better Late Than Never


Why am I reviewing Titanic now?  I read this today and I laughed.  My thoughts exactly.

When it first came out, a good friend took me to see Titanic.  I walked out of there telling her, “I would have liked it better if the ship didn’t sink.”

But seriously, Titanic.  You had me at epic movie about a ship sinking.  You lost me at Bill Paxton.  He bugs me and will forever be Chet.  Stay out of potentially awesome movies, Chet!

But you also lost me at the story you chose to focus on. There were mothers and children.  Elderly couples who loved each other for maybe 50+ years.  If you really wanted to tear people’s hearts out, one of them could have sacrificed for the other.

You chose to focus on a couple that met each other 2 or 3 days ago and were basically having a fling.  There are countless other interesting people who could have been portrayed.  Maybe even some real stories.

You lost me at unexpected, naked breasts!  WHAT?!  It’s PG-13 and what that says to me is, “There won’t be any bare breasts in this movie.”  People say it’s because it’s art.  He was painting her.  Yeah, but then they went into the car where he was definitely not painting her.  Rating fail!  I never wanted to watch it again.

The most touching scene is when the string quartet is playing on deck.  And then one of them gives the other a cello and says, “Here.  Float on this. Save yourself!” And then the other person says, “This cello is big enough for both of us to live!”  “Oh yeah!  You’re right!  There’s no sense in either of us dying!”

OK, that didn’t happen. The music happened, but the main characters Rose and Jack must have had instant hypothermia because neither one of them was thinking clearly when he told her to float on a large piece of wood that was big enough for both of them.  He stayed immersed in the water and she didn’t think to offer the other half to him.  True love, my bum.  I also had to suppress laughter when Jack was suddenly a scientist or something and calmly told Rose what was going to happen as the giant ship was submerged.  People are screaming and bodies are falling everywhere, but he’s acting like he’s experienced this same scenario before.  No biggie.

Thanks to Rose’s selfishness, she lives and she goes on to marry someone and has multiple children with him.  At the end of the movie, it appears she passes away peacefully in her sleep (unlike Jack who died freezing and terrified) and who does she meet in the afterlife?  Fling boy!  The guy she spent three days with vs. the guy she made a lifetime with.  She did report her last name as Dawson after she was rescued (how the heck do I remember this stuff?!), but still.  She had children with her husband!  He must have been living in fling boy’s shadow all those years.  You can bet if he had lived, she would have gotten annoyed at him plenty of times for leaving his socks on the floor and other stuff.

I give it a generous two stars.  One star for the scenery, one star for the touching quartet scene, then I subtract a star for the unwanted nudity, and I subtract three stars for Bill Paxton.  Negative two stars.