Oct 17th, 2012 by Jennifer Lynn
I was awoken at 5:15 a.m. experiencing chills and a raspy cough. And teeny, mealy fists tangled into my neck and hair.
I felt like shit and there was Lexi, peeking at me. Grinning and talking her gibberish.
Feebly I tried to coax her to lay down and snuggle into my tartan blanket, but all I managed to do was persuade her to erupt into giggles and blow raspberries against the tip of my nose.
Play time, Mommy.
My groggy mind groaned as I considered options.
If I quickly chucked her into the hallway and hid beneath the blanket, for example, would she notice the quivering mound on the bed? I could glue the door shut?
Not that I would close the door on my fifteen-month-old and lock her out to fend for herself just so I could accomplish peaceful sleep. Because that would be wrong. And our bedroom door lacks any type of locking device. Obviously someone wasn’t thinking.
That is how I ended up ghoul-ified on the floor at the crack of dawn beneath the bonsai plant, sitting cross-legged with my reindeer mug among the company of a stuffed fuzzy caterpillar and a lint-covered owl, while Lexi repeatedly thumped a peeling copy of BOW-WOW! PEEP! against my kneecap.
Halfway through our reading, Lexi began to sneeze. She rubbed her nose and sighed miserably. Then stared at me: Waaaaaaahhhhh!
Heeding my cue, I gathered Lexi into my arms to rock her soothingly. She nuzzled into my neck and gazed at me like I was the only face she wanted to see before the sun came up. We smiled at each other and my exhaustion ebbed away.
I knew there was a reason I suffered through a gestational period with this one. Just don’t expect too much productivity from this drowsy
gal goul today.
Pardon me while I shuffle off to fetch another tissue.