Last night, I was awakened at 3am by a smallish person, excitedly telling me about dreams and stories and silly things. Well, I had to take her word for it because frankly, I wasn’t finding her jive all that hilarious.
But she’s usually pretty spot on with these things, so I’ll trust her that it was all very funny.
Anyway, the 3 year-old didn’t wake me from the soundest sleep. At the time of her arrival in our bed, I was tossing and turning with half-awake dreams concerning glass mosaic tile and an ever-shifting squishy wall of mortar.
I’m not proud of this story, I’m just telling it like it is.
And since I possess a glorious memory foam pillow, I spent more time than I care to admit trying to flatten my pillow’s surface, completely convinced that it was the errant backsplash wall. Ever try to flatten a memory foam pillow? Yeah, it works real well.
And Nora never fell back to sleep.
And I never managed to flatten that pillow/mortar wall.
And Susannah had her 18 month shots this a.m., along with an exciting blood draw which included the nurses’ third consecutive visit attempt to find her baby veins.
We are all Feeling Feelings.
And as of publication time, none of those “feelings” have been that of anyone’s face hitting anyone’s bed-like surface. Which is just as well-
My pillow clearly cannot be trusted, anyhow.
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