Not her real bed. Oh, no, this is the Hidey Hole where I lost Sam for several minutes the other morning. I'd been in the bathroom, shame on me, and when I came out, nowhere, I mean nowhere was she to be found, until she popped up out of the Hidey Hole after 15 frantic minutes.
Get ready for this. I mean it. Are you sitting down? Because I'm just about to over-react like usual. Guess what time I woke up? 5:10 a.m.! That's what time! Oh, yeah, oh, yeah, I woke up a few times before that, also as usual, but when I woke up at 5:10 a.m. it was NOT to a voice saying, "Mom, the door."
Sam slept until 5:10 a.m. and then came into our room and looked at us, giggled, and went away. Naturally, I got up to check. Her pajamas were on the floor as well as her pull-up--all pretty much pee-drenched. And did I care? I did not! Because she had slept. And more importantly to me, I had slept. Slept for the first time in a long time. Naturally her bed was soaked, too, and without a care in the world, I stripped it, carried the sheets over to the laundry basket, and then decided to see what Sam was up to.
She was in the tiny room. This future site of my future sewing room has a twin mattress, fully made up, and a TV and DVD player in it for a reason. For mornings like this morning. Mornings I don't get kicked out of my own bed. Mornings I don't get exiled from my room. Mornings that Sam is awake, content, and wanting to do her own thing. Like watch the movie Penelope from the bed in the tiny room. Once she was set, I went back to bed.
And slept until 6:50! As anyone who has been following my chronicle of whining knows, I have not been able to sleep in my own bed for a full night in awhile now. Miranda had not been able to sleep on her own for more than a year. Last night was a milestone. Major accomplishment. Sam went to bed without wandering back and forth like a lost soul between her room and mine, her room and her sister's. She just did her own strange little thing, remote control in hand, and went to sleep in her own bed. ON HER OWN. I hate to admit it, but it was easier than expected. I thought for sure she'd torture us for months until we were riddled with guilt.
So at 6:50, the dogs were ready to be let out of their crates. The cats were ready for breakfast. And I was actually rested enough to get up without moans of self-pity. I decided to check on Sam.
Before I could fully get out of bed, she came to check on us. Dripping wet from head to toe. "Get a towel and dry your body!" Mick and I both shouted. Obviously, between 5:10 a.m. and 6:50 a.m. Sam had been enjoying our back yard, 12 foot diameter Walmart pool, aka the lifesaver, the sanity saver.
I started to investigate what had occurred while I had slept too soundly. Pool cover on the ground, as expected. Mick's old, dirty tennis shoes abandoned half-way to the pool. ??? Wet swim suit on the deck. Remnants of a sandwich on the stove. On the picnic table, an almost-empty plastic container of macaroni, and the topper: a wine glass that HAD contained my ORGANIC HALF-AND-HALF! Gone, all gone again! And that's what I get for sleeping.
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