(not just a) MommyBlog (dot com)

Last night Casey was away ~ back to Maryland for some business.   Though I tried to go to bed early, I got way too into my scandalous book and stayed up until I was closer to midnight than I needed to be.   Kenny woke up at 3:00 AM, instead of 1:15.   (There goes my theory about something  specifically happening at 1:15 to  wake him up.)   This time, I let him cry himself back to sleep.   That lasted until 3:30.   I was still not ready to give in, so I let him cry until 3:55, and when the sobs turned to screams, I went in.

I opened the door and he was instantly silent.   I walked over to him, and he held out his arms.   “Chair,” he said quietly.   I curled his little body against me and we sat in the chair for about a half and hour.   But he was wide awake.   You could tell that he knew he was supposed to be sleeping, but he just couldn’t.   I was afraid that I’d fall asleep in the chair and he would be off roaming through the house until dawn, so I climbed into the guest bed that’s in his room and we snuggled in together.   Except that he thought that was the coolest thing ever, and kept popping up, saying, “Mama!   Big Bed!”   I finally got him settled down (as the clock hit 4:30), when Dudley seemed to notice that I was no longer in my bed, and he must have been worried, because he came looking for me.   His trusty weimaraner nose got him to Kenny’s room, where he  leaped onto the bed in relief and gratitude that I had not deserted him at this darkest hour.

Kenny though that Dudley flying into the bed was even cooler than cool, and that got him jazzed up all over again.   Another fifteen minutes went by before all of us fell asleep:   Kenny curled up against my stomach with his head on my shoulder, Dudley curled into the crook of my bended knees, and me, terribly uncomfortable, but unwilling to chance waking either of them up again.

Ah, but the restless sleep wasn’t meant to last… Kenny popped up at 6:30 and dove on top of my head.   “MAMA!”   Then, spying Dudley, he dove on top of a very surprised Dudley.   “DUDLEEEEEE!”   As he slid off the bed and headed to his legos, I considered the possibility of letting myself fall asleep again, but realized that doing so would give both Dudley and Kenny run of the house.   And let’s face it, it’s not like I’d wake up to the surprise of a breakfast in bed and the  smell of frying bacon and eggs; more likely, I’d wake up to Kenny climbing onto the stove, and  stirfrying his diaper.

And speaking of Dudley having the run of the house?   Let’s just say that he was really bad today.   He  destroyed a record number of Kenny’s blocks, ate a measuring spoon, splintered the 9-ball  rack on top of the pool table, raced through the house with a silk throw pillow, and ate my new bra.    And that was all before noon.   It’s my fault entirely: when Casey is out of town, I can’t run with both the baby and the dog, and since I can’t leave Kenny home alone, all Dudley gets is a dinky walk around the neighborhood.   Four miles of walking is nothing for this beast, and the piddly walks leave him aching with pent-up energy.   As I’ve been writing this, I’ve gotten up twelve times to take things out of his mouth, most notably the end of the toilet paper roll.   Yes, my dog just toilet papered my house.   I need to write a commercial for MasterCard starring my dog.   Except instead of the ending saying that something is “Priceless” I’ll have it say, “Owning  a weimaraner?   Pricey.   Somethings money can’t buy; for everything else, there’s Dudley.”