So last night I slept in the wet spot. Not the good kind. Although, is there really such a thing as a "good kind of wet spot?"
You see, earlier in the day my son, Satan as I like to call him, enjoyed pouring water into my bed. He realized that if he moved around it made the water flow in different directions. While this is certainly a good experiment in physics (I think it's physics. I never took physics. In fact, I suck at math and science so it could be geometry or calculus or something else but I'll just go with physics because it sounds good. Anyway, I digress (see Profile regarding digression)).
This occurred, of course, while I was in the bathroom. Isn't that always what happens? Not the pouring the water part, but all mischief in general. You take one minute to pee and the kids burn down the house or neuter the dogs.
I did not have an opportunity to change the sheets or dry the mattress because I have two 2 year olds. I thought I'd get to it before I went to bed. My husband went to sleep before I did so I never got to it at all.
In the morning as my darling husband was leaving for work he said, "By the way, what's with the beach towel you were sleeping on?" UGH. I can't believe my life.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
Terrorism at Home
Let me start by referring you to my profile. If you are easily offended and take life very seriously, my blog may not be for you. That being said, let me proceed...
I discovered a terrorist cell in my home last night. I had been feeling a little ill earlier in the evening and had sucked down some Nyquil. At approximately 0200 hours (that's 2:00 am for you non-military folk) I was awakened to the sound of a terrorist starting his attack on my peaceful sleep.
I grabbed my glasses from the bed stand and ran down the hall. With Navy Seal like precision, I silently opened the door to a room inhabited by the terrorists - namely my two two-year old sons (ages 25 months and 22 months; I call them Satan and Lucifer, but that's another story for another day. Did you read my profile? I told you I digress a lot.)
The younger of the two was the aggressor. I dropped to the ground and incapacitated him. Mission successful! I army crawled across the ground to leave the area. Just as I reached the exit door someone farted and woke both members of the cell once again. (Does that ever happen to real Navy Seals? Has a fart ever ruined one of their plans? Probably not a Seal, those guys are amazing freaks of nature, almost robots of precision. Maybe the other military guys. Someone has had to fart in combat at some time or other. Anyway, I digress again.)
So, where was I? Oh yeah, someone farted and woke the terrorists. I froze and camouflaged myself into the walls. I held my breath and moved not a muscle. (Someone had farted - I was glad to hold my breath.) It seemed as though hours passed, while I stood motionless, waiting for the terrorists to fall back to sleep. (Actually it was probably only a minute or two but when your tipsy on Nyquil and groggy at 2 am, things feel a little different.) Once it seemed as though the coast was clear, I began my departure from the area to return to camp and get some shut eye.
As I climbed back into my comfy bunk, my radio (aka baby monitor) starts to crackle and I heard the terrorists again. This time it was the two of them, clearly plotting together against my husband and I. Time for a new plan. This time, I left my glasses behind. Silent incapacitation was clearly not an effective method. As I ran down the hallway, I made a new plan of attack. AHA, I've got it! This time, I burst in to take the terrorists by surprise. I returned to the fox hole of the younger and find it empty. I spied into the other foxhole and saw the two terrorists attempting to disguise themselves by placing pillows on top of them. Undeterred by their efforts at disguise, I lifted the pillow and grabbed the initial aggressor and assertively returned him to his own fox hole. As I attempted to leave the area - this time with no efforts at hiding my departure - I heard the wimpers of the wrong terrorist. Apparently in my Nyquil fog and without my glasses, I grabbed the wrong kid. The other was giggling quietly from his brother's fox hole. He would not be defeated - at least not this night.
Oh well, let them sleep where they are. I'm too tired to deal with it. My Seal card has been revoked and I have been dishonorably discharged. I can't believe my life.
I discovered a terrorist cell in my home last night. I had been feeling a little ill earlier in the evening and had sucked down some Nyquil. At approximately 0200 hours (that's 2:00 am for you non-military folk) I was awakened to the sound of a terrorist starting his attack on my peaceful sleep.
I grabbed my glasses from the bed stand and ran down the hall. With Navy Seal like precision, I silently opened the door to a room inhabited by the terrorists - namely my two two-year old sons (ages 25 months and 22 months; I call them Satan and Lucifer, but that's another story for another day. Did you read my profile? I told you I digress a lot.)
The younger of the two was the aggressor. I dropped to the ground and incapacitated him. Mission successful! I army crawled across the ground to leave the area. Just as I reached the exit door someone farted and woke both members of the cell once again. (Does that ever happen to real Navy Seals? Has a fart ever ruined one of their plans? Probably not a Seal, those guys are amazing freaks of nature, almost robots of precision. Maybe the other military guys. Someone has had to fart in combat at some time or other. Anyway, I digress again.)
So, where was I? Oh yeah, someone farted and woke the terrorists. I froze and camouflaged myself into the walls. I held my breath and moved not a muscle. (Someone had farted - I was glad to hold my breath.) It seemed as though hours passed, while I stood motionless, waiting for the terrorists to fall back to sleep. (Actually it was probably only a minute or two but when your tipsy on Nyquil and groggy at 2 am, things feel a little different.) Once it seemed as though the coast was clear, I began my departure from the area to return to camp and get some shut eye.
As I climbed back into my comfy bunk, my radio (aka baby monitor) starts to crackle and I heard the terrorists again. This time it was the two of them, clearly plotting together against my husband and I. Time for a new plan. This time, I left my glasses behind. Silent incapacitation was clearly not an effective method. As I ran down the hallway, I made a new plan of attack. AHA, I've got it! This time, I burst in to take the terrorists by surprise. I returned to the fox hole of the younger and find it empty. I spied into the other foxhole and saw the two terrorists attempting to disguise themselves by placing pillows on top of them. Undeterred by their efforts at disguise, I lifted the pillow and grabbed the initial aggressor and assertively returned him to his own fox hole. As I attempted to leave the area - this time with no efforts at hiding my departure - I heard the wimpers of the wrong terrorist. Apparently in my Nyquil fog and without my glasses, I grabbed the wrong kid. The other was giggling quietly from his brother's fox hole. He would not be defeated - at least not this night.
Oh well, let them sleep where they are. I'm too tired to deal with it. My Seal card has been revoked and I have been dishonorably discharged. I can't believe my life.
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