Wednesday, April 2, 2008

The screams in the night

Okay, so once again I got no sleep last night. Is it some sort of cruel joke I am living here? Let's revisit the facts; first, Chunks-a-lot has an inoperable brain tumor; second, Chunks-a-lot also has hydrocephalus and a condition called Thalamic Pain Syndrome. What does this mean? Something to the affect that the tumor putting pressure on her thalamus causes pain when she lies down at night. So what ends up happening is she screams for hours and hours and hours IN her sleep all night long. It doesn't happen every night and in fact it's so random that just when I think she's never going to do it again, BAM, she does it 5 nights in a row. So I lie there in bed, glancing at the clock every 45 minutes wondering how it's humanly possible to listen to someone scream for so long without losing your sanity. She sleeps in bed with me, safely might I add, so her screams cannot go unnoticed. So finally at about 6 am she's up for the morning, seeming to be totally oblivious to what happened the previous night. As I drag my drooping body up the stairs, I sometimes find my husband (further referred to from this point as "Lips") in our room (we sleep in different beds so he doesn't turn into a zombie at work) in our plush queen sized bed and his face is completely draped in the comforter on the bed. And I'm talking like wrapped around his face nun-style. His lips are usually swollen in the morning so they're poking out nicely as he seems completely lost in his sweet and relish dreams. This entire scene makes me murderously angry. There are times when I find him wrapped like a papoose up there and I just want to rip the covers off him and let the cold morning air stun his warm body. I attribute these dark feelings to my lack of sleep. Bless my heart. But someone's got to make the money and, lucky for me, that person is him. So I try to let my thankfulness override my desire to strum his swollen lips and wake him from his blissful sleep. And then there's Talks-a-lot. Let me tell you, kids should be locked in a room from the day they learn how to talk. I have never in my life met anyone that can talk so much. From the absolute minute he wakes up to the minute he crashes in bed, Talks-a-lot's mouth is just a going. So here I am, exhausted from no sleep, with Chunks-a-lot hanging off my hip, trying to fix breakfast one-handed, answering the same dadgum question from Talks-a-lot about 35 times. I lean over to pick up Chunk's beloved Ducky that she dropped on the floor and she spits up all over my arm and it drips onto the tile below. So I try to tear a paper towel off to clean up the mess, but can't get the stupid thing to tear on the perforated line because Chunks-a-lot is leaning over trying to grab the sink. Talks-a-lot manages to ask me how babies are made and how Jesus can be everywhere all the time-- all in the same sentence. And then Lips walks down the stairs from a peaceful nights sleep and says, "You want to fix some pancakes?". Seeing the rabid foam accumulate in my mouth, he pretends it was a joke and gets the cereal bowls out. Still doing everything one-handed, I'm wondering when he's going to offer to take 20 pound Chunks-a-lot off my hands. But being as Lips has acquired the dud-man syndrome, my predicament goes unnoticed. After dropping my spoon and the box of cereal, I finally break down and just ask Lips to take Chunks-a-lot. But Lips apparantly has dirty morning hands and therefore MUST spend the next 10 minutes in the bathroom washing them. Frustrated, I continue my morning duties alone. I struggle to enjoy some peace and quiet with my breakfast as Talks-a-lot finds a whole new subject to address: where milk comes from. Here are some direct quotes, "So the cow drinks milk and then it shoots out of its body? What kind of milk does the cow drink if the cow is making the milk....its OWN milk? So how much milk do you have to drink to make milk shoot out of your body for Chunks to drink (referring to breastfeeding)? Does your milk taste the same as cow's milk? How do they clean the milk from the cow before we drink it? Do they splash it into a bowl to get the germs out? How come those cows in Chick-fil-A always say 'Eat more chicken'?" And you can use your imagination for the rest. Just as this wonderful series of questions and answers is coming to a close, Lips makes a grand appearance from his OCD handwashing. We're now done with our breakfast, so we get up to move on to the next set of morning duties. So Lips not only gets a full 8 hours of restful sleep, nestled in his cozy burrito of covers, but now he gets to eat his breakfast in silence while reading the morning paper. Alas, I feel my dark side creeping up again....

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