It's 12:48 a.m.
I am beyond tired. I'm flipping through the channels and finding nothing. I did happen to go to bed but was kicked out by Gabrielle, our 2-year-old warden. She started out on my side and when I went to bed, I hoisted her into my arms and carried her to her own bed.
She insisted, loudly, to be returned to my side of the bed. This leaves me with a quarter inch of mattress.
Doesn't really matter anyway. The furnace has once again shit the bed, which requires me to sleep on the couch, keep the living room fire going and every so often venture down into the basement to see if I can get the bastard going again.
Corrine hates this. Well, so do I for that matter.
I feel banished. Curled up, trying to sleep but waking every half hour to make sure the fire doesn't go out.
She lopes down the stairs to fetch the warden a cup of milk. Gabi can't sleep without her milk.
Corrine doesn't say anything when she comes down. I think she's sleep waking (sleep milk fetching) .
The fact is, we both had forgotten these days. The days of caring for young kids. The days of having to set aside all things in order to keep our attention squarely on completely dependent souls.
Our other children have been fairly self-sufficient for some time. They bathe themselves, feed themselves, go to the movies without us needing to escort them.
We've been able to sleep relatively unencumbered (see: childproof) for years. Now, we're back to the days of breastfeeding and bed relinquishing.
Okay, the furnace issue has nothing to do with child rearing. I would be down here on the coach, writing my blog and keeping the fires hot regardless.
I am beyond tired, and Robert Downey Jr. is climbing a ladder in his underwear in a movie that came out when I was 20.
God this sucks.