It was a sleepless night, chez Johnson. Maybe it was the excitement over our anniversary, (kidding) or the boys’ inability to stay asleep, the pre-dinner hike we took along the Douglas Fir Trail, or the fact that my gut is being held hostage by a small hippopotamus. Either way, there was an hour or so between 12.30 and 2 that I slept and then I lay awake until 5.
I was in a fair amount of discomfort, which I concluded could only mean I was in labor and going to have still-unnamed-baby-boy-3 imminently.
Apparently I’ve forgotten what labor feels like, and that my children prefer to gestate for 42 weeks….not 36 and a bit.
So I lay in the dark mulling over all that had been left undone. Sure, I’d had a crazy bout of cleaning on Saturday, complete with actually organizing the nursery. But now it was Sunday (technically Monday) and the downstairs was completely trashed, for lack of a better word. No one had had the energy to do dishes after dinner. There was food still stuck on the dining table and papers and books and toys strewn across the floor.
How could I bring a child into such a disaster zone? I started wondering if I should get up and clean. No matter that it was 2.30am.
Instead I chose to fixate on another glaring issue. The camera battery was nearly dead. I’d spent a few minutes before turning in looking for the charger and hadn’t been able to find it.
How could I ever live with myself if I had to go to the hospital to have a kid and couldn’t even take a picture of the little man? The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced I needed to remedy the situation. Immediately.
Except I was tired. And had already looked in all the plausible spots. I needed an emissary.
Around 2.30, my emissary woke up. I waited until he’d gone to the bathroom and returned to the room. ‘Can you do me a favor,’ I asked. ‘Sure,’ he replied sleepily. ‘Can you see if you can find the battery charger for the camera?’
‘You mean right now?’
My emissary walked downstairs, flicking on the lights as he went, in search of the Olympus battery charger. After ten minutes I realized he’d never find it, and walked downstairs to aid in the search.
‘I can’t believe it’s 3.30am and we’re looking for a freaking battery charger,’ Jason muttered. Understandably disgruntled. Finally I found it – sandwiched between two file box lids. Of course?!
I took the battery out and stuck it in the charger. Pathetically relieved, given the late hour and the nature of our quest. ‘Can you charge the little camera too,’ I asked my perplexed spouse, who was desperate to get back to bed.
He did. And we went to bed. Around 5am, I fell asleep. With the hippo still firmly ensconced in my ribs.
Only 35 more days.