Last night as I am laying (lying? in the state of a lie? reclining? not vertical?) in Little Diva’s bed at 2:30am trying to get her to settle down enough so that I can go crawl into my own bed, I began to wonder when exactly and how exactly I became the parent on duty during the hours of 10:00pm and 8:00am. I don’t remember signing up for this. I am pretty sure I didn’t jump up and down waving my hand saying “Pick Me! Pick Me!” when it came time to assign this role. Yet, there I was, yet again, pulling midnight duty. At that point in the night, I am at the stage where I would gladly gnaw off my own limb if it meant I could escape and crawl back into my own bed to sleep.
In fact, as I was thinking about it, I realized that not only do I have the night-shift when it comes to all things child related (except puke), I also have the night patrol. Do you know the night patrol? It goes something like this:
Me: I’m off to bed now. Goodnight. *kiss*
Him: I’ll be in a bit later. I’m not tired yet.
I go through the living areas picking up any toys that are left out. Then I turn off any lights or tv’s. Making my way towards the kitchen, I gather up anything that is out of place. I put any glasses that are left out on the counter into the dishwasher. I wipe down the counters. I check to make sure that there is enough milk and “whatever” for breakfast. I take any meds I have to take. Make sure the garage is closed and the doors are locked. Then, turn out the lights in kitchen. I’m off to the the kids’ rooms. I pick up any toys left on the floor, close any books left open, make sure they have an outfit for the next day and that day’s clothes are in their hamper. I lean over and give them a kiss and tuck them in all snuggly. The next stop on the night patrol is the bathroom. I wipe down their bathroom counter and turn out the light. At last, I make it to my bedroom. Grabbing something to sleep in, I go to the bathroom to take off my makeup, brush my teeth and (of course) potty. Finally, I turn out the light and scurry to my bed to go snuggle under my own covers and get some sleep.
I arrive at my bedside to find…
…he is already there…sound asleep.
It just isn’t fair, I tell you!
I’m a bit jealous, if you must know the truth. I wonder what it would be like to yawn, say I am tired and then actually go straight to bed. What a novel idea. I think he may be on to something with that concept!