Greetings from Sunday

February 10, 2013

Sunday morning starts way earlier than it should. The little one, clad only in underpants (where did her pajamas go?) wails outside of our bedroom door. The door is open, as always, so why isn’t she rushing in, full-throttle?

I roll over and look at the clock: 4 am. Awesome.

Not awesome, actually, because 4 am and 5 am are my nemesis–if I wake up during those hours I always have to wrestle with the voice in my head that says, “You’re going to be up in 1-2 hours anyways. Might as well just commit.”  Which counters the other voice (my selfish voice, which is oddly channeling Cher) which says, “Get up now? You’ll look like a 70-year old hooker all day. Go back to bed.”

So I wait a minute and waffle a bit. Because I’m C-minus mommy.

Just like that–ZAP–I’m back in North Dakota, hanging outside Mama’s bedroom door in the middle of the night, afflicted with the spooks or a toothache or poop that won’t come out.

I am not assertive, so I just clutch the doorframe and whimper.

“Whatisit?,” Mama mumbles, barely coherent, which I can’t really blame her for because it’s mid-winter in North Dakota and Daddy’s been on the road for a week.

“*******,” I say.

“You’re fine,” she says, pulling the pillow over her head. “Just get a glass of water.”

Mama, bless her. All my life, unless I was dying or had a ruptured appendix, if I woke in the night with complaints, “get a glass of water” was the medicine.

Good medicine, if you have a constantly anxious, insomniac child.

“Get a glass of water,” wasn’t half-bad. It sure beat the banana-flavored vomit medicine I had to take if I had a horrendous bellyache. Or this crazy stuff Mama called “White Lightning,” that was probably 70 proof, which was the cure for a hacking cough.

In fact, “get a glass of water” usually worked just dandy.

Dangit, why do I never learn these important parenting lessons?

I do not tell my child to get a glass of water.

I want to, but she’s whining around the doorframe, and even C-minus mommy knows something is up. Appendicitis? It had better be appendicitis, because this old donkey is tired, Goshdangdagnabbit.*

I lurch out of the bed, walk a few steps and sink into to the doorframe.

“Whazzup, BunnyBunny?” I slur.

She flops onto my lap and her cheeks are wet with tears and she’s burning up, which makes me feel terribleterribleterriblemommy for even waiting a minute before creeping toward her.

But I’m still Goshdangdagnabbit tired, so I haul her into bed with me (knowing that yes, I will get whatever germy awfulness she’s rocking) and wipe her face with my sleeve and rub little, little, soft circles on her back.

“Mommy, there are bugs in my bed,” she whimpers.

***Intermission: Crucial Decision Making Ahead***

Hoo-kay, my husband is the accidental peanut butter in this Family Sandwich, so a considerate wife would take the wailing child back to her room or downstairs to the sofa, right? I ain’t considerate.

“You don’t have bugs in your bed, baby,” I say, cuddling her close.

“No, I do! I reallythinkIdo! I think they were…roly-polys.”

I can’t help it. I crack up. It’s too early and too wrong and sometimes, this is your life.

“Dude. It snowed last night. Now, roly-polys might be in Florida today but they aren’t here and they surely aren’t in your bed.”

She sniffles. I rub. “Do you ever have a dream where you wake up in the middle and you’re mad because you wanted to know how it was going to end?”

“Mmmm,” I say, still rubbing.

She sits up suddenly. “Hey Mama! Guess what? In Minecraft? I blew up all my chickens!” she cackles and clacks her heels.

“Whaddaheck?” I snort, trying to muffle my laughter. “Chicken butts everywhere?”  Yeah, it’s over.

I nudge my husband. “Sorry babe. Officially up. Outta here.”

“I can take her,” he drawls.

“No. S’okay. We’re hangin’.”

Couch-bound, I give her two ibuprofen and her favorite blanket and it’s girls and Spongebob at 4 am.

Good morning, Sunday.

I think we have a day ahead of us.

I’d greet you with a swear, Sunday, but alas, we have a new member of the family*.

Thus the dangitdagnabbits. I’ll be broke in what, a week?



{ 26 comments… read them below or add one }

Abby February 10, 2013 at 12:16 pm

I hate it when I wake up before I’m done with a good dream, so I feel her pain on that one ;) And even though you feel like you look like hell and are tired as shit, that time she was sick and you guys watched SpongeBob at 4am? She’ll probably remember it fondly (or not, if she was really doped up on cold meds, but you get my point.)

And if I had a swear jar at my house, I would need to take out a second mother effing mortgage, so good luck with that…


TKW February 11, 2013 at 10:19 am

Abby, it’s not going well…


Wendi @ Bon Appetit Hon February 10, 2013 at 12:39 pm

The reason for the early rise sucks but I bet once you got your arse down to the couch you enjoyed every second of snuggling with her.


Katybeth February 10, 2013 at 2:45 pm

Sorry your kid is under the weather…but isn’t it kind of nice to just surrender and have an excuse not to do anything, but take care of her….if only you could have started at a reasonable 7am.
Swear Jar? Good idea for kids…but your the grown-up you can swear if you want too. One of the privileges of growing up, moving out and paying a mortgage. I wish I could curse and not have people look at me and crack up.
Hope the rest of the troops stay well.


elizabeth February 10, 2013 at 5:09 pm

Having to wake up that early (especially for such a malady) is clearly reason enough to have a cocktail and then a siesta in the early afternoon. It’s science.*

I hope she feels better soon!

*Not actually science.


TKW February 11, 2013 at 10:19 am


I like the way you think :)


Jamie February 10, 2013 at 6:39 pm

Bahahaha! Remember how well the whole swear jar thing went for me? Hope you have better luck ;)


TKW February 11, 2013 at 10:20 am


Looking pretty grim over here…


suzicate February 10, 2013 at 6:51 pm

Hope your baby girl is feeling better and hope you don’t get it.
Hmmm….how much money in the swear jar? Enough to go on vacation yer?


TKW February 11, 2013 at 10:21 am


I do see a vacation in my horizon. Ouch.


Heather February 10, 2013 at 7:46 pm

I hate when I delay and one of the monsters is actually sick :( Makes me feel like a total looser mama. Hope the minx is feeling better soon. I didn’t mean to send the icky sickies your way!
Swear jar? Really??? Oh I’d be broke in no time!


Lisa @ The Meaning of Me February 10, 2013 at 8:53 pm

Isn’t that the worst feeling ever? I hate when I do that kind of thing. Or when I get way too irritated way too fast at stuff that is just normal little girl nonsense. Then she looks at me and says something dramatic like “you’re hurting my feelings” with a big crocodile tear on her cheek and I want to fall into a hole. Thank God she ususally forgives rather quickly. Ungh.

Hope your little Minx feels better. Nothing worse than a kid feeling awful, especially when you can’t make it go away instantly. Sending you strong immunity vibes…although my immunity usually stinks, so…mostly it’s the thought that counts.


TKW February 11, 2013 at 10:22 am

I think the “you’re hurting my feelings” remark (with the tear added) would make me a complete puddle.


Lisa @ The Meaning of Me February 12, 2013 at 6:13 pm

It’s gut-wrenching. Horrible, really.


Maggie S. February 11, 2013 at 5:10 am

What? No middle of the night nosebleeds? You haven’t lived.

I hope she feels better soon.


TKW February 11, 2013 at 10:23 am

Maggie S.,

Oh, the late night nosebleeds…we have those, too. Awful!


Sherri February 11, 2013 at 6:28 am

Oh jeez… you’ve got a Minecrafter too :). Many a chicken / Creeper – whatever story in this house too. I hope little one feels better – crappy stuff going around.


Arnebya February 11, 2013 at 7:43 am

Oh, boy. That is so it — that hour you know if you wake up you may as well stay up because if you lie back down that hour or two will fly by and then bam! you’re rushing around like a fool only you wouldn’t be a fool had you just gotten the hell up when you heard the cats fighting outside your window, 70 year old hooker day or not.

We are all guilty of this, that slow response unless there is visible blood or vomit or poop or at least some writhing on the floor accompanied by a full throated moan.

My husband’s go-to (that irks the hell out of me, because it DOES NOT WORK, but at least is now our fail safe thing to say for everything, even things totally unrelated) is warm water and baking soda. He’s said it so much that now, that no matter what your ailment: stomach ache, headache, amputation, lost homework: drink some warm water and baking soda.


TKW February 11, 2013 at 10:24 am


I think drinking baking soda and water would make me HURL.


Sam February 11, 2013 at 7:59 am

Thanks for making me feel better about being a C – kinda mom. Like this morning, the young one is running a slight fever and got to stay home with daddy. The older one (almost 7) was in hysterical tears at morning drop off because she missed daddy. And I resisted every fiber in my body to yell at her for being ridiculous.

I also trained the children NOT to wake mommy up in the middle of the night or there will be a super cranky mommy. So they walk daddy up. bahhahahaha


TKW February 11, 2013 at 10:24 am


Your idea of waking Daddy instead? Genius!


Dana February 11, 2013 at 10:12 am

Sometimes I feel sad for my poor poor mum. First, she was graced with me, the anxious insomniac. And then she was graced with my little brother, the also insomniac but luckily no anxiety problems. Between the two of us she must have been so tired. All the time.

She tells me I’ll get my payback one day when she gets to have some grandbabies. :P


TKW February 11, 2013 at 10:25 am


Revenge is coming for you…


Velva February 11, 2013 at 6:09 pm

I think it is amazing mommy-daughter time.



BigLittleWolf February 12, 2013 at 11:04 am

You always make me laugh… and tear up… almost at the same time!

(As for the swear jar, I never even dared in this household.)



Tiffany February 18, 2013 at 4:37 pm

OOOh boy that’s early for a Sunday! I hope it wasn’t anything major…and there were no roly-polys.


Leave a Comment

Previous post:

Next post: