You know when you are a "new" mother and your eyes are bloodshot and the kid hasn't slept in four years and all the chubby middle aged women are patting your hand and smiling and saying completely non-helpful things like "oh, just wait until they are teenagers so you'd better enjoy this while it lasts"?
They were right.
I should have put my kids in a dark corner of the basement and let them scream themselves to sleep because at least I would have known exactly where they were and what they were doing right?
And I could have put in earplugs or something and gone to sleep for a few hours. (I was one of those mothers who never let her babies cry–DAH–don't. Don't tell me your opinion on that. It's too late. I don't want to know.)
Honestly, I'm glad she's enjoying spring break. Hanging out with good friends, in homes where the parents are home supervising the hanging out. I know she's safe and being good.
What I don't know is what time I have to pick her up.
What I do know is what time I have to get up in the morning, because spring break doesn't translate for those of us who are employed. And that this is the third night (or morning even) in a row I'll be up late.
I also don't know…if maybe she got a ride and she's already home…sleeping in her own bed…which would explain why she isn't answering the cell phone I got her for instances just like this…
Nope. I just crept into her room and eyed the mound of blankets of bed, in the moonlight, watching for a pulse. Finally flipped on the light. Reminds me of the good old days when we'd bend over the crib in the middle of the night, trying to figure out if the critter was still breathing.
Didn't happen much. The kid never slept. But when she did it was disconcerting.
Oh, and those chubby middle aged women? The other thing they didn't tell me is why they were filling out so nicely. Because of all the crap they were eating, trying to keep their eyes open.