So, last night was the final night of Dadageddon 2012. The Wife’s conference finished up this morning and they drove back today. I was a machine last night. I fed The Kids, gave all three of them baths, got them all down in bed and was downstairs by 8:05 p.m.
At one point, as I was watching TV at about 10:30 p.m., I heard Slash cough and could instantly tell that he was out of the room. I walked to the bottom of the stairs and saw him squatting at the top of the stairs, half asleep:
Me: What’s wrong Slashie?
Slash: Mumble mumble mumble my legs hurt.
This happens from time to time. He’ll wake up in the middle of the night and say his legs hurt, which we assume is growing pains (insert Kirk Cameron joke here). I put him back in bed, rubbed his back and his leg for a few minutes and went back downstairs. Little did I know that this would mark the beginning of “Night Of The Waking Slash.”
If there was one good thing about The Wife being away, it was that I was able to spend some quality time with my mistress, and by mistress, I mean NHL 97 on my Sega Genesis. I usually play one game every night while The Wife gets ready for bed, and for some reason, it annoys the crap out of her. I don’t know why, but the one 10 minute game I play seems to be some sort of hardship for her. So I was able to play two games a night with no guilt, not to mention the usual dirty looks and grumbles I usually get.
Anyway, I meant to get into bed earlier because I was exhausted from the weekend and the previous night of The Rocket Queen’s sickness and coughing, but somehow got suckered into playing some NHL 97. I finally turned out the light at about midnight, and at 12:30, just as I was falling asleep, Slash shuffled into the room and said something. I’m not sure if he was saying his legs hurt or if he was offering his insights into global warming, but I lifted the covers and asked if he wanted to get into bed and snuggle for a few minutes. He climbed in under the covers and laid down facing me. His breath was awful, so I could only stand it for a minute or two. I got him back into bed, tucked him in, and went back to sleep.
He came in again a little later, though I can’t remember when it was. I have a vague recollection that it was about 1:30 a.m., though it could’ve been 3 a.m., I’m really not sure. All I know is I woke up at 3:20 a.m. and realized that I was spooning him. I don’t remember if I let him into the bed or if he just crawled in, but there he was, snuggled in with my arms around him, snoring away. Except for the 3 a.m. spooning, he could’ve been The Wife.
As soon as I realized that, not only was he in the bed, but that I couldn’t turn over because he was lying on my arm, I told him that it was time for him to go back to bed. However, he just might be the hardest person in the world to wake up:
Me: Slash, let’s put you back in your bed.
Slash: LOUD AGGRESSIVE SNORE!
Me: Come on Slashie, time to go back to bed.
Slash: Snore, snore, SNOOOOOOOOORE.
So I tried to sit up, from lying down position, while still holding him, but it did not go smoothly. I basically had to roll onto my back, fold him in half, and do a sit-up without dropping him. Once I was sitting, I was able to stand, but I was holding him so awkwardly that he was basically folded in half, with his torso straight up and down and his legs bent to his chest. But I got him back into bed and went back to sleep.
At 6 a.m., Axl came into my room, stood next to me and said:
Axl: Daddy, my nose is running.
Me: (Seriously? What the fuck do I need to do to get a little sleep around here? So fucking wipe it!) So wipe it.
Axl: I don’t have any tissues.
Me: (I hand him the box of tissues next to my bed) Here. Go back to sleep.
Sadly, the alarm started going off half an hour later.
At least The Wife is coming back tonight!
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