The Princess and the...

Sleeping has been a challenge lately. In our room we have two adults (who are prone to snoring), two dogs (one of whom bites her nails. really!) (the other sticks his head under our covers at night, presumably to make sure we are still there. cold nose in our privates!!), and one baby (who has messy pants throughout the night and makes scritchy-scratch sounds with her fingers on the side of the crib). Lest I forget the nocturnal visits we still receive from two of the three boys sleeping upstairs.

Would you want to sleep in this room? I didn't think so...

Falling asleep and staying asleep has always been a difficulty for me. As my sleeping hours are more of a scarcity, I've become fiercely protective of them. Weekends are supposed to be about catching up. Right?!? Wrong...

There is a point to all of this background information:

This weekend we decide to take the kids to the bookstore and dinner out as a treat. At the bookstore "one of our younger boys" wants an adult-fiction book on war and terrorism. No way. I offer three compromises. #1. We buy the book and I pre-read it. If the book is appropriate, you can read it too. #2. We look for a book in the young reader's section about war. #3. I help you find an alternative topic that's appropriate to your level. Is he happy with any of these options? Not in the least. We spend FOREVER looking, he and I. He dislikes all of my ideas. We enlist the help of the very nice bookstore employee. She actually finds three books on war. Is he appreciative? Nope. He dislikes all of her ideas. It is time to leave. Angry boy. Huge fit. Rude words said by him in the bookstore. This is not turning out to be a treat for any of us. On the way to the car this child turns to Clark (who was not involved in the bookstore experience whatsoever) and says, "I hate you!!!".

At this point, plans change. This child will not be going out to dinner. We drive him home and tell him to sit tight for two hours. We will be home after dinner. With amazing foresight, Clark places his PSP out of sight. No video-game enjoyment for this kid. He is supposed to sit at home with a ham sandwich regretting his stinky behavior and rude words. I know this part is a mother's fantasy, but still, I indulge.

That night as I toss and turn and can not get comfortable, I return to the situation. With this child in particular, a treat can go oh-so-wrong sometimes. Why does he sabotage the fun? Is there something we can do to premeditate his meltdown? Why do the natural consequences not seem to make an impact? Why am I so darn uncomfortable? Toss, toss, turn, turn. Worry, worry. Baby up and poopy. Dog biting her nails. Snoring husband. Scritchy-scratch, scritchy-scratch on the side of the crib. Cold dog nose in the privates. Toss, toss, turn, turn. Something about this bed is not working tonight. Reaching up to rearrange my pillows for the umpteenth time, my hand grasps something cold, slim, and covered in buttons. You've got it, the PSP!!! In my sleep-deprived state, I wake Clark to remind him where he hid the PSP. He's not surprised, as he put it there. If he put it there, why didn't he take it out? You know how those conversations go at 4:50 a.m....

The next morning, Clark and I reflect on the night's happenings, deciding I must be the modern day Princess and the PSP. Though, we remember the Princess as beautiful and unruffled. And she definately was not changing poopy diapers!!!

p.s. After time passed, the above-mentioned child apologized all on his own. That my friends, is the fairy-tale ending you were looking for...