The husband is out of town this week, so I experiencing single parenthood. Getting the girls to school, dropping Mr. Lips at daycare and not getting to work until 9:00 a.m. is something I could easily become accustomed to. The evenings have pretty much been the same routine, since Jeff works second shift we’re not used to his presence for dinner, homework and activities. One difficulty I am working through is going to sleep knowing he’s not home. Usually, I hit the sheets as soon as he walks through the door at 10:45 p.m. This week, I find myself lying in bed, jumping at every floor squeak or jostle of Christmas tree ornament by one of the cats. Last night the damn dog starting barking at something, running from under my covers to the living room. I freaked. It took me several minutes to gather the gumption required to make the seemingly perilous journey from my bedroom to the living room. Upon investigation I concluded my dog was barking at the wall or something stupid like that. Here I am, yelling at my dog for doing what comes naturally, feeling like an idiot for being so scared. Back safely in bed reason returns and I realize it would be worse if the dog didn’t bark when something really was askew.
This whole scene has forced me to realize I’m a 32 year old woman who still believes the boogie man is under her bed.
This whole scene has forced me to realize I’m a 32 year old woman who still believes the boogie man is under her bed.
3 comments:
When Dan's not home, I carry my cell phone around in my pocket at all times. Even during the day. If you call me on it around 10-ish chances are I will answer it from the bathtub. I'm not afraid of the boogie man so much as an attacker, cat burglar, confused drunkard or disgruntled voter.
Signed, Paranoid Freak
I have a hockey stick within reach of my bed. It's not like I can depend on the chihuahua to protect me.
Good call. I agree, my dogs only purpose is as a warning signal, unless the "big bad guy" can be taken down by a nip on his ankle.
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