"Mommy, my bottom is cold."
I am snuggled down under my cozy comforter cover, velour blanket and flannel sheets, fighting off waking up for just a minute more. You know the second your feet hit the ground it is going to be a dead run until you lay down again. I am breastfeeding the little one because he is the early riser among the three of us and the one that needs the most supervision when up and around. I am actually kind of warm next to the baby and under all the bedding so I can't figure out why her butt would be cold.
It hasn't dawned on me yet.
I ask her if she would like to cuddle up next to me under my blankets and she snuggles right in. So I finish with the baby, roll over and wrap my arms around her. She tolerates that for a minute before she needs to be free. Some days I feel like I don't hug my kids enough. Once you get up you are always moving. We usually just don't stop for a hug in the middle of the grocery store, you know what I mean?
So she scoots over and I starts squeezing her little limbs and tushy because I find her adorable. And her bottom IS cold. So I start investigating. Up her back and down her legs are cold as well. With just a hint of wetness. I put my glasses on so I can further inspect my bed, my SANCTUARY.
Let me just pause to tell you a couple of things. About two weeks ago my daughter was playing with my glasses which were in the bed on my pillow to keep them safe from the baby. He loves glasses and I was afraid he was going to break them. So they were up in the safety zone while he was wondering back and forth between the bedroom where I was and the living room where Daddy was sitting drinking his coffee. This is an unfortunate time to be a little kid in my household as both parents are engaged in activities that are not conducive to play by young children. Mommy is still trying to sleep - after all, I am the one who gets up and attends to all needs in the middle of the night. Daddy is drinking his Coffee, his most prized time of the day. He gets to relax and think and dream on his next venture, after all he is on a dead run the minute he leaves the house. Neither one of us protects the other one's special time.
Anyway, my daughter is with me chatting away about glasses when I hear "SNAP!" Not a good sign. I am so near-sighted that I need my glasses to fully see the condition of my glasses so I sit up and take a peek. Yep, they're broken. They now look like Opera Glasses. There is one side which I can still stuck behind one ear but the other piece is there on the bed. My glasses are thick so they need both sides to hold them on my face properly. And the frames were so cute - little thin wire ones that cannot be glued or even taped together. And one of these days when money is not so tight I will head right into the Doctor's Office to get a new pair. Until then I will wear them as is. Broken.
My bed is my sanctuary. It is a further extension of a no-shoe house. I want clean things in my bed. No clothes that have been to the outside world are allowed in my bed. I change the kids and myself into bed clothes when it is nap time. Today at the gym's Kids' Club some little boy came out of the bathroom without washing his hands. I know because I was right outside the door putting on coats when I heard his transaction. And off he went to go play. That is how things go. They just don't need to go in my bed. I take it so far that if we go to eat Mexican (my favorite) or similar dining experience I toss my kids in the bath before we get into bed. I don't like the smell of Food in my bed. I even close the door when I am cooking so kitchen smells stay in the other part of the house. Anal retentive, I know. But I like to get into a bed that is clean when I am clean. I sleep better that way.
So there is pee in my bed. And this is pee that occurred some time in the night because there is little wetness left to touch. But the smell is still there. Which means that everything has to come off my bed and the down comforter has to head to the dry cleaners. Spring cleaning has begun!
It's my fault. I knew I should have run her to the bathroom one more time. It had seemed like she had just gone poop so I didn't bother. And she was all zipped up in one those pajamas that have the feet so to sit her on the potty basically means to undress her and redress her all over again. I remember trying to catalog how much she had actually consumed in liquids as I was debating about it. Apparently more than I thought. She still has plenty left for our morning ritual of the potty dance.
So, comforter is at the dry cleaners and maybe I'll get it back on Monday or Tuesday of next week. Which is a bummer because both my husband and I sleep better with the weight of the comforter over the top of us. We got it at the Bon Marche about 5 years ago. The sales lady was explaining the differences in the weights of the comforters and making her recommendations. The one we chose was going to keep us plenty warm, she warned us. She actually suggested the one up from the one we had chosen, but is seemed like it didn't have enough down in it. Boy, was she right. It was winter and we were sweltering. Eventually, we acclimated to our comforter and it has been fine ever since. And we miss it when it is gone.
It is 2:30 p.m. and I am still doing laundry from this morning's misadventure.
You know, you should NEVER ignore that little voice. I'm not talking about the one that is telling you her butt is cold (and don't ignore that one either), but the one in your head that reminds you to do stuff. A stitch in time saves nine. Ain't that the truth!