Last month my children and I successfully shared a room at my mom’s cabin, a heretofore unprecedented occurrence. I slept in the bed, they slept in sleeping bags on the floor. However, “Successfully” came and went the last night of our stay.
Bedtime started with a simple request from Six…
“I want to sleep on the other side of your bed tonight, Mommy.”
Six and Nine then moved their sleeping bags 97 times during the subsequent 25 minutes, escalating to 15 minutes of shuffling/crying sleeping bags spilling over into the living room where they proceeded to change places another 97 times
I NEED MY HEAD BY HIS HEAD
I CAN’T SLEEP WITH HIS HEAD BY MY HEAD
STOP FOLLOWING ME
IT’S TOO DARK OVER HERE
IT’S TOO LIGHT OVER HERE
STOP COPYING ME
I SAID NO CORNDOGGING
BUT I NEED MY HEAD BY HIS HEAD
BUT I CAN’T SLEEP WITH YOUR HEAD ALL UP IN MY HEAD
WE DO NOT CORNDOG IN THIS FAMILY
*Glossary: “Corndogging,” = kicking/punching your brother’s nuts
This 45 minutes/millennium culminated in my jumping from pillow-over-my-head to unleashing upon sleeping-bag raiders the fury of my lost-patience ark
LET SLEEPING BAGS LIE AND NO ONE SHALL MOVE OR TALK OR YOU GET SEPARATED AND I LEAVE YOU ALL ALONE BY YOURSELVES AND TURN OUT THE HALL LIGHT AND (melting demon-heads, evil stink fume-lines, sounding furies). My tired and fed-up descended upon my children in their weeping bags. My remaining eggs cowered in my ovaries and begged Mirena to keep working her IUD magic. My children and I, we eventually slept.
In the morning as I sipped my coffee and shame, I recounted the specifics of the bedtime-Armageddon to my mom. She and Papa Doug had heard only snippets through their bedroom door, what with all the sympathetic-laughter-stifling. In an attempt to disabuse me of my self-flagellation frittata, my Mom responded that I had showed my children a valuable lesson--that I have my limits.
Today in temple for Rosh HaShanah I listened to the annual retelling of The Binding of Isaac. I wondered if God was showing Abraham his limits, too. Not his limits like “I will ask you to kill your son just to see if you’ll do it, but you know I’d never make you do it, Abe, for serious.” but
NO ONE EVER LISTENS TO ME AND EVERYONE IS MOVING THEIR SLEEPING BAGS LIKE THEY OWN THEM AND MAYBE THIS WILL GET YOUR ATTENTION BECAUSE ALL THOSE SLEEPING BAGS ARE MINE. I CREATED THE WORLD THAT CREATED THE HUMANS THAT CREATED THE BAGS. EVERY KIND OF BAG AND THE HUMANS IN THE BAGS. YOU ONLY GET TO BORROW THEM. AND I KNOW THIS YELLING/TELLING YOU TO SLAY YOUR KID HURTS BUT I’M FED UP AND REMINDING YOU THEY BELONG TO ME. I HAVE MY LIMITS YOU KNOW. LIKE ANN’S MOM SAID.
ALSO THANKS FOR THE RAM. YOU KNOW HOW I LOVE A GOOD DRUMSTICK, ABRAHAM. NOW REMEMBER LITTLE ISAAC, NO CORNDOGGING.
LOVE YOU MEAN IT – GOD
I know, I know, I’m always going scripture on all of you, plus comparing myself to The Lord. I’ll stop my incessant evangelizing and tell you that Kizz Robinson won Heidi Cave’s book! Kizz, come on down and email email@example.com your mailing address!
Have a great weekend everyone, and I’ll be back with an important announcement on Monday.