Boobie Nights

We are in the midst of a heat wave. It has been around 100 degrees with a heat index up to 109. This means that upstairs in where our bedrooms are the temp averages 137 degrees. Celsius. This basically means we've been sleeping in the living room all week.

Since it is so blazing hot, we figure this does actually raise our body temperature would could be considered a "fever" and so we've been watching some t.v. (just a bit, don't go getting uptight or emailing me any more adbusteres videos) Quality video like "Sunflower Journeys" showing a local guy who converted his diesel car to run on used cooking oil. Or a show featuring local artists who were creating large scale pieces for the new h&r block building in kc. Or a show exploring questions about whether giant snakes can actually swallow adult humans whole. We stayed far, far away from both Bob the Builder and the Muppet Show.

She just refused to go to sleep last night. I'd be nursing and she'd break away, flinging her body backwards and squawking. Around 11 o'clock I had tried a variety of nursing positions: rocking her in the chair, laying on the couch with her, sitting upright while pretending to not be trying to get her to sleep, laying on the floor while nursing and reaching for the other mommy crashed out on the couch. None of it.

"Khubz! It is time to sleep. The mommies are exhausted. You are exhausted. What is your problem??" It didn't work. She only yelled back. "Meeeaaaaahh."

We went back to the recliner. All the lights were off. I kicked the air down a couple degrees. I started singing the enya song (which I now have on CD thanks to the marvelous Mulder!) We're nursing, we're starting to snooze. Kick the foot rest up on the recliner, now we're reclining. And. . . We're asleep. Asleep. Immediate, medicated-like sleep.

Well.

At least, the Mommy was asleep.

Yes, it's true. Khubz faked me out. It took all of 37 seconds for me to pass out in the chair. Khubz heard opportunity knocking. Don't you hear it? Sounds a lot like. . . Oh maybe it is. . . The sound of your infant child climbing down your legs and toppling off the recliner. Yeah. Not a good sound.

I'd like to say that I woke up and caught her.

It would be more accurate to say that I woke up and while trying to catch her, actually knocked her over.

Good times.

Even better, the entire getting-to-sleep routine had to start all over. This time we stayed on the floor.

So how's the weaning going? Let's save that for another post.

When I finally did get to sleep for real I had wicked menstruation dreams. This is not unusual for me. But it's been a while. There's a poem in that dream somewhere.

Anyway, we are off to iowa to leave a Sentra and take an armoire (for the tv no less) This is especially exciting because we can put on some Foyle's War or Red Dwarf, close the armoire doors and just have the audio. This is perfect.

More later.