Friday, January 16, 2009

Cold and wet

The amount of sleep required by the average person is five minutes more.  ~Wilson Mizener

Like the rest of the country, we have been suffering through some bitter cold temperatures the last few days.  It's remarkable how your understanding of cold changes so much with your latitudinal orientation.  When we lived in Atlanta, cold did come, but in spurts and stops that, in the end, amounted to a pretty mild winter overall.  Now that we are in the middle of Missouri (and pretty much the middle of the country), cold has a different definition.  A "mild" day for us can read 35 degrees farenheit.  I have now stated on numerous occasions, "Okay boys, it's over freezing, let's get outside!"  Everything is relative.
That being said, my August chose the coldest night of the season, literally, to wet the bed.  And not just once but, twice.  I heard him whimpering first and then he magically appeared at my bedside.  Aidan was there, too, because there was no way he was going to be left in that bed by himself and he had been awakened by August's desperate mewing.  Somehow, in the dark and in my sleepy stupor, I knew that he was wet because I instinctively frisked his lower half.  And that's when I discovered that he was shivering.  Chilled to the bone, he was.  I quickly got him changed and we crept back in the chilly darkness to join John and Aidan in our bed.  And, despite our large, wonderful, king size bed that was obtained with the full intention of sharing it with our children, I can no longer sleep there with all of us in it.  Granted, I could sleep there if necessary, and in my more uncomfortable moments, I am often reminded of Frank McCourt's family all crammed together in bed, out of necessity, in Angela's Ashes.  But, again, it is neither restful nor pleasant with all four of us.  One child is fine, but two sets of legs and arms is simply too much anymore.
I left our warm bed and retired to the couch where I did manage to get somewhat comfortable and snug.  But then, before too long, I heard voices.  This time it was John and August stumbling around in the boys' room, looking for yet another set of pajamas.  Evidently, August drank a gallon of water before bed without our knowledge because he had proceeded to wet our bed, as well.  Since our bed is so big, half of the bed was still dry and thus there was room for John and Aidan.  August, however, had to join me on the couch.  Lovely.  To his defense, he is a remarkable cuddler and he curls up into you as if within your arms rested the secret to eternal blissful slumber.  That is nice.  But soon, the cramped quarters and tingling appendages begin to obscure the blissful repose and again, I am sent wandering into the night, searching for somewhere to lay my sleepy head.
My coffee tasted marvelous this morning.

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