2/19/03
Last night Debbie woke me up to take care of Alexandra.
I was asleep and dreaming. After Deb nudged me a few times I remember being very agitated at my wife and spitting out something like, "What is this, some kind of test!?"
I'm not sure what I meant by that, or even if that's what I said. I'm not too good at thinking on my feet in the first place so you can imagine what I'm like at two in the morning.
Deb had already been up twice with Allie. Allow me to repeat: Deb was already up. Why we both needed to be awake escapes me. I suppose she simply thought that I would be disappointed that I couldn't help our daughter through her late night crisis.
Yeah, right.
I'm classifying my wife's actions as punitive.
Don't worry. Allie isn't sick or anything. She probably was having a bad dream, or was cold, or she couldn't find Dolly, or her pajamas were riding up uncomfortably, or a combination of these and other factors. Regardless, the result is she cries for her Mommy. Once again, allow me to repeat: Allie cries for her Mommy.
Now, most of the time when I hear Allie cry at night, I bolt out of our bedroom. Deb has commented that she's impressed with the speed at which I can tear myself out of bed and dash down the hall. As time goes on, however, my response times have been diminished. This could be attributed to the fact that when I get to Allie's room she's not in the kind of absolute mortal peril that flashes through my sleep addled mind.
In fact, it's usually a simple matter of Dolly lying on the floor next to Alex's bed. I pick up the doll, put it next to Allie's face and my daughter rolls over and instantly returns to sleep.
As for me, I go back to bed and lie awake.
That's what happened last night. I arrived in my kid's room, found her on top of her blanket and comforter rolled up in a ball whimpering in her sleep. She wasn't even awake. I covered Alex and walked back to my bedroom feeling fortunate for Debbie that my softball bat wasn't leaning against the wall in the hallway.
Then I started thinking about work. I have a ton of stuff to get done before the end of this week. In the wee hours, the list of things that I need to get done seems insurmountable. I lie in the dark in a panic. When I roll over, I see my wife and then I lie in the dark and fume. Then I roll back over and return to panic mode. I roll in the opposite direction and see the clock which causes a combination fuming panic reaction. So I roll again and settle on just panic.It's awful.
For the life of me I cannot figure out why lying awake in bed after midnight provokes thoughts of gloom and doom. I'm thinking it's some kind of hormonal thing. As you sleep, your brain is awash in chemicals that stimulate the, "I'm going to lose my job and my family will starve" center located along your cerebral cortex. It also stimulates the, "I'm going to rehash every humiliating moment I've had in my life" node that can be found in the center of your brain.
So I tortured myself until I fell asleep again. Then 5:30 came and a different kind of torture set in.
Okay, okay. I know. Life is good. But that doesn't mean that re-living that toga party, back in 1983 or so, where I kept stepping on a really cute girl's feet as I thrashed around like I was having a seizure with her until she finally got fed-up and shoved me away and limped off the dance floor is my idea of fun.
What I'm trying to tell you is don't be surprised if you get a call from me very early some morning. If you do receive this type of call, be kind. I'm relying on you to not only provide some consolation but to convince me not to murder my wife and child.