I knew it was time to get out of bed and blog when sugar plums and bedpans began dancing in my head. Yes, insomnia had struck again, this time tormenting me with visions of gingerbread men and fecal material.
Perhaps it was the 4 hour nap I'd taken this evening. I couldn't even blame work this time. Yesterday, at 1am I awakened to Sock Fashion Expert's voice. She was carrying on a lively conversation with The Archer. I stumbled out of bed and drug myself to the stairway. "What the carousing coyotes are you guys doing down there?!" I demanded. "Don't you know we have school tomorrow?!" Discussion about laundry and bleach drifted to my ears and I decided to go back to bed half wondering if this was some bizarre dream. Half an hour later, the kids were still conversing. "What the postulating possums are you kids talking about?!" I demanded, as I sluggishly descended the steps. I had determined to put a stop to this late night conversation and usher them off to bed for good! Then as they began to open up, I found myself suckered right into the conversation. It's not every day your teens want to talk freely to you and you gotta take the opportunities while you can get em'! Soon I was listening, telling my own stories and offering advice. Before I knew it, it was close to 4 am and I was keeping them up! Being tired from my profound ability to carry on a great conversation at 3am, yesterday morning, I lapsed into slumber around 7 or 8pm only to find myself awake at this ungodly hour.
I was also prompted to an early slumber by Sock Fashion Expert herself. Yes, she had agreed to the dastardly deed of cleaning out my walk in closet. No, this was not a random act of goodwill. Nor was it deep gratitude for my astounding 4am abilties as a conversationalist. I admit, it was a bribe. Since we've got an upcoming trip to the big city, she wanted some extra spending cash. "What's this?!" She demanded, pulling out jewelry making supplies and a receipt. "Uhh..... that's your last year's birthday present that I lost" I confessed. Quite pleased with her find, she disappeared back into the closet of doom. By now clothes, papers and boxes were everywhere and I feared I'd have to send a search party in after her. She was wearing multiple hats and bibs belonging to Moonbeam. Moonbeam's bedroom is in the walk in closet as well. Sorting through Moonbeams stuff, she had acquired an array of accessories which she goofily displayed. Not much later she yelled for the forty millionth time "Mom what's this?!" This time it was a small pouch of cards and photos I'd stolen from my Grandmothers hutch after she passed on. There was also a check register dated from 1976. "Why'd you steal that?" she asked. "Ahhh, I thought perhaps if I was ever hard up for cash I could write a check". "But this isn't a checkbook". "Yeah, well I was just a kid". She rolled her eyes and began laughing rather hilariously at the old photos of me and my cousin as little kids. I left again. "Mom what is this?!" This time it was an old piece of wood with some permanent marker scrawls on it. "It was a gift from you when you were little". "Its old wood." she countered. "This is why I am bribing you to clean my closet" I reminded her. Every time I go in there, I get overwhelmed. It needs a new, young and energetic set of eyes and hands. "Take this hat" she said placing the hot pink "super princess" cap on my head. It's a hat my dad bought me so I can never get rid of it. I can never wear it either, because my husband thinks its ugly. "How about this?" she questioned with furrowed brows. "Box of material my dead aunt gave me." This was too much. Overwhelmed, I crawled into her bed and fell into a fitful sleep. When at last her job was done, the closet was transformed into a much happier place and our trash can was overflowing. I feared look too close into its tumultuous depths.
Meanwhile, in another part of the house, I had assigned the two younger boys the chore of taking down the Christmas tree. I was also quite leery about treading out there too far. Sometimes it's best just to take a nap in the midst of such turmoil.
During this long and somewhat brilliant recount of my evening, I was disturbed by a knock at the door. Chills clutched me and horrible disturbing scenes flashed in my mind. "Who could possibly be out there at this time of the night?!" I flew into the bedroom demanding my husband awaken and see who it was. Goosebumps emerged all over as I insisted. My husband rolled over and told me nobody was out there. I decided to take matters into my own hands. Armed with my .38, I ever so cautiously, I tip toed to the door and emphatically shoved the lights on. "Ha!" I exclaimed, expecting to find some horrific scene. The new fallen snow didn't show any sign of foot prints. Then another "bang!" I jumped, perhaps a little too much like Don Knotts. I looked out again. The cat was out there and every time he leaned on the door it made a sound like a knock. I rolled my eyes and returned to the computer not wanting to enlighten my husband of these events in the morning. "Hmmm..... perhaps I could just tell him the neighbor got a wild hair to bake lefsa at 1am and seeing the lights on decided to borrow a cup of sugar". Maybe not.