The other morning I had just gotten up - let me rephrase that - I had dragged myself out of bed against the better judgement of every fibre of my being, because it was almost school time, and I knew I had at least one child to prepare for going to school. My husband wandered downstairs looking disgustingly refreshed. He saw my son sitting there, and remarked, "Why isn't he at school already?"
I looked at him closely to see if he was joking.
"Do you honestly mean to tell me," I asked slowly, gritting my teeth, "that you have no knowledge of the fact that he is sick? That he was up at least three times in the night crying? That not only did I give him medicine but I also gave our other child medicine as well? That I also cleaned up vomit from the floor?!"
My husband backed away, shaking his head slowly, as if that would soothe me.
I continued, trying not to yell. "I was up AT LEAST six times in the night, and I am now completely exhausted and hanging by an extremely thin thread. And you are telling me that you didn't wake up ONCE?"
My husband regretted asking, I can tell. I regret marrying such a sound sleeper. It's downright annoying. Yawn.