cat duty

As moms most of us have this sixth sense, we can be awakened from a dead sleep by the slightest noise. If the baby so much as sighs, we are on our feet before our eyes are even open. Coughs, cries, sneezes, itty bitty footsteps; we hear each and every one. While, let’s be honest, most husbands saw logs right through it all and wake up in the morning fresh as a daisy. You could have gotten up with a puking child five times, eventually put her in the bed with you where she immediately pukes all over your bed, changed the sheets right out from under your man, changed his clothes and wiped the puke that had splashed onto his face for that matter, finally gotten your baby back into her own bed, fallen exhausted back into your own bed, and two minutes later your husband will sit up, stretch his arms high above his head, and with a huge yawn, smile at you and obliviously ask, “I slept like a baby….you?”

This is the very reason that when the doctor put me on a cocktail of meds to “knock me out for 8 – 10 hours” at night, I was more than a little concerned. Charles promised that he would turn his sleep dial down so that he would be the one to hear all the cries and coughs, handle all the crises, clean up any puke, etc. Evidently that promise did not extend to cat duty.

Now the cat must have been making quite the racket to wake me from my medically induced coma, not to mention, she was actually on his side of the bed! Half asleep, I realize that what had startled me from my sweet dreams was Lizzie hacking up a hairball. Hmmmm…..and what a lovely sound that is. With my senses only slightly intact I stumble towards the noise, trying to get there before the actual ball o’ hair is delivered to the carpet. Ugh! She completes her retching just as I round the corner of the bed. I scoop her up, lest there be any aftermath on its way up, and half stagger/half run her to the garage. Making my way back into the pitch black bedroom, I feel like I am navigating a minefield as I have to tiptoe through an unknown number of pukey spots, hoping not to feel anything squishing between my bare toes. I turn on the bathroom light to illuminate the area, and as I begin scrubbing the offending spot, Charles squints into the light and asks, “what are you doing?” “Nothing hon, go back to sleep.” And he wonders why I worry he won’t wake up for the kids………