Written February 28, 2016
I had lunch today with another adult and talked about grown-up issues. Boy, that felt good to hear myself use more words and longer sentences that were not just limited to “Nicholas, please don’t bite your sister” or “Antoinette, put the crayons back in the container please.”
I talked for more than two hours my throat actually hurt. The cup of hot water with lemon wedges I requested from the waitress not help.
By the time I was home at 3:00 p.m., I laid down on the floor and fell asleep just like that for a good 63 seconds until my husband told me to go to the bedroom and rest.
Jeff Junior was sleeping on the bed in his bear onesie and looked so dreamy and cute and huggable like those babies you see on diaper packages. I moved him to lay down beside me and I was out. It was 4:05 p.m.
Four hours and thirty-two minutes after, I woke up to a painful face slap and a baby’s cry. My giant JJ was hungry and was trying to bring me back to the conscious world. A slap was all his reflexes could summon to let his mother know it’s time to join the living, breathing members of the earth again.
Wow, what a nap.
I didn’t realize that having lunch with another adult – other than Jeff – would exhaust my vocal chords like that.
My voice is hoarse and I’m making ginger as my best friend.
It’s 10:13 p.m. and everyone is asleep.
The night owl is back in business.
