Smothered

Sometimes, I swear my family is pranking me. There has to be some sort of light or buzzer that goes off the instant I unbutton my pants in hopes of peeing in private.

For example: Last night, Olivia fell asleep on the recliner at 6:45. Tom and Alyssa went outside to give Harvey the cat his evening scoop of food and some attention.

I checked on Liv, who was snoozing away. Then I went upstairs to use the bathroom. (Why, yes we do have a bathroom downstairs but I prefer the one upstairs…just because.) The second my butt hit the toilet seat, I heard Olivia call, “Mama?”

I called down to her, “Be right there, Livie. Just going to the bathroom.”

She called up several more times with a sad little voice, “Mama? Mama?”

I kept calling to her, “I’m coming, Sweetie. Be right there.”

So much for a nice leisurely, private pee.

Anyway, I rushed through washing my hands and headed down to check on her. And guess who’d fallen back to sleep between the last “Mama?” and my rushing down the stairs. That’s right. Olivia wasn’t even awake to appreciate my stellar mothering.

About two minutes later, Tom and Alyssa returned from their visit with Harvey and from that point on until we went to bed, Alyssa was velcroed to my side.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am thrilled that my thirteen year old still enjoys my company so much that she wants to be near me at all times but…sometimes, like, you know, when it’s NINETY FREAKING DEGREES OUTSIDE, it would be nice to have just a little personal space, you know, so I could sweat in peace, or maybe not share sweat with either one of my children.

We watched some television (Big Brother 18 premiered on Wednesday, Lyss and I are enjoying getting our hate on with these contestants) and then she wanted me to take a couple of character quizzes before bed.

Thankfully, she sat in the second computer chair instead of trying to share the one I was sitting in and I indulged her. We found out that I am most like Doc from Z-Nation and Goulia Yelps on Monster High. My life is complete knowing these things.

Olivia slept fitfully until I finally took her to bed at about 10:30, at which point she sleep soundly until 12:30 which was when she needed more pain medicine. I tucked her back into bed and she slept well until 3:30, when she woke up for more medicine.

You know? There’s a reason most 45 year olds don’t have infants. This whole getting woken up every three hours is killing me.

Here’s to personal space and long stretches of uninterrupted sleep in my very near future.