Home » Blog » On a Day Like Today

On a Day Like Today

16 September 2010

Ok. Ok. I hardly know when yesterday ended and today began.  Cries of, “MOMMMMMMMY! ELLIE FRIA!” broke through my almost-asleep-maybe-I was-asleep haze around 1:30 am.  After letting her fuss for a half hour or so, I finally went in to check.  Sure enough her room was damn cold – I plugged the heater in, and gave her a kiss.

She quickly settled back into bed and I tried to go back to sleep.  Twenty minutes later I heard, “MOMMMMMMMMMMMY!!!!! Ellie want music!  Ariel! NOW!”  When that didn’t work, she turned to the words that almost always get her the results she’s looking for.  In an adorably sweet and high pitched tone she hollered, “Mommy, music please!!!!”  How could I resist?  I pattered into her room and pressed play on the iPod.

Just as I was about to close the door, “No Mommy. No Arial. Mommy Poppins. No Arial.” Um. Ok. I switched it to Let’s Go Fly A Kite.

“No Mommy. No Go Fly a Kite….Ellie want Super-kackick

Ok, ok. I switched the iPod to Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, tucked her in, and as I turned to go, “No mommy, please stay. Ellie no sola.” (She’s been mixing her Spanish and English more and more).  She held my hand tightly, and I leaned my cheek against the crib rail.  After a few minutes trying to rest my eyes while still being close, I gave in and climbed into the pirate bed that’s next to her crib.

“Mommmmm–“

“I’m right here, Bear”

“Ok. Mommy. I love you.”

I MELTED, “Love you too, baby Bear.”

I drifted off to sleep to the sound of her breathing and Julie Andrews singing the famous biggest word you ever heard song…

What seemed like only a few moments later, the Little Mermaid soundtrack started blaring from Ellie’s CD player.  Apparently she had messed with the buttons and turned the alarm on.  I couldn’t believe I was awake again.  I got up, turned it off and then closed my eyes.  A few moments later it was Mary Poppins blaring from the iPod player.  WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON??? Thankfully, Ellie didn’t wake up completely either time, she only stirred.

Thinking there wasn’t anything else that could possibly wake us up, I snuggled back into bed and prayed for sleep.  When at whatever ungodly hour it was, I woke to hear a loud beeping throughout the house, I just felt like crying.  I opened one eye to see what time it was, but there was no clock. No lights. No power.  The beeping was Jeffrey’s back up battery for his computer.  I unsuccessfully tried to shut it down for him, but couldn’t get the monitors to turn on (even though they were plugged into the computer and have no other power cord)…so I just put the damn thing on mute and crawled into bed.  Twenty minutes later, there was another beeping – the baby monitor in the kitchen had been left on, and was running out of batteries and wanted to be sure that I knew.  By then it was 6:30 am and I still hadn’t slept.  I headed back to my room and tried to catch a few winks, but was up by 7:45.

Yeah. I’m wiped out.

I won’t even get into what the rest of the day held……between the flooded barn, bad news about the horses and their boarding situation, still waiting for news on Jeffrey’s mom’s health (she has been in the hospital up here), Boots having jacked up his back again, nearly running out of gas on Wilsonville Road, discovering that three of the batches of pickles turned out like crap (all too soggy???? WTF).  The good thing is that the day ended on a good note: my friend Amy came to visit, we walked around the garden, made some decisions about costumes and the Halloween party, and I finally watched the Hang Over.  Now I’m just waiting for Jeffrey to get home. See, it’s not all bad.

Oh the joy.

Blog

One Comments to “On a Day Like Today”

  1. There is a thin line that separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humor and hurt.
    Erma Bombeck

    Still, she has nothing on you: your writing and sense of timing when you write particularly about calamitous situations is stellar.
    Keep up the good work as it entertains and inspires the rest of us.

Leave a Reply

(required)

(required)