We are all a little stretched to our respective limits here at Chez WTF. Monkey Boi is stomping around the house playing Ninja, wearing a red fleecy throw with multi-colored butterflies on his head topped by a red plastic garbage can (because I suppose that this is what the fashionable ninja is wearing these days).
Mojo is surly and growling.
Arabis has turned into a little poop machine and stomps around clapping at everyone and everything. Four of the six teeth have broken through though, thank the deity of your choice!
And me? I have a headache the size of Cincinnati and a knee that looks like it was attached by Dr. Frankenstein. I just want to be kidnapped by a group of rogue beauticians and be massaged and pampered for a while.
Last Saturday, we had dim sum with Pixie Bleu and her brood, Shemena(with her boy Elvis) and another old friend, Janna. All told there were 11 of us, clustered around the table (including the two babies [in their Cuir Bleu onsies!] and two almost-teens) consuming vast quantities of lovely food. Our lateness was blamed on me, and Mojo gleefully related the following tale:
It was about 2:00 AM, and Mojo had finally gotten the Monkey Boi to leave him alone and go to sleep so he could work on a free-lance article he is writing for an obscene amount of money. He is wearing his headphones and typing away furiously on his laptop when he hears me scream, "No!"
He removes the headphones and comes to check on me, in bed with the baby and thrashing back and forth, still screaming at the top of my lungs.
"Zombies! Zombies! And it's ALL YOUR FAULT!!"
"Honey. Honey. Wake up. You're having a bad dream."
"No! They're going to get me! You did this! This is YOUR FAULT!!"
"Honey, you're going to wake the baby."
"Zombies! They're trying..."
"You're going to wake the baby."
"...to get me..."
"You're going to wake the baby."
"...and it's YOUR FAULT!!!"
"Honey. You woke up the baby."
"Wha...what happened? Where are they? You DID this to me!"
"It was just a dream"
"Where is the baby?"
"I've got her. She's awake. You've been screaming at the top of your lungs."
"Oh, okay."
This is the point where I apparently rolled over and went back to sleep.
I am woken at 3:30 AM by Mojo, seething with exhaustion, frustration and rage. He has been up with the Bit for an hour and a half and cannot get her to go back to sleep. He rouses me and gives me the baby, then takes the bed and passes out before I can object.
Arabis and I were up until almost 5:00 AM before I could finally get her to sleep. So, yes, we were a *tad* late to dim sum this morning. It did not dampen the festivities one bit.
Janna, Shemena (with Elvis), Pixie, me (all friends since high school).
Makana, Monkey Boi, C and Janna
Arabis and a still-annoyed Mojo
Silly kids
Dim sum cures all ills.
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2 comments:
I once woke to hear my husband sing an entire verse of a hip-hop song in his sleep. MUCH more amusing to the wakened spouse than screaming about zombies. My sympathies to the Mojo.
Which hip hop song?
My mom gleefully relates the tale of when my college roommate called her and told her I sang "The Perfect Nanny" from Mary Poppins in its entirety in my sleep.
And Mojo keeps a log of my nighttime ramblings. There was the one about the flying monkeys, the time I reenacted an entire Marx Brothers routine ("That's a-flisk") and the one about being on a mission from Frog and looking for Mr. Fabulous.
My brain is a strange place to live.
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