It’s dark and dreary and way too comfortable in my extremely comfortable and ridiculously overpriced bed when the alarm wakes me from a dead-to-the-world kind of slumber. For a minute, I forget where I am. Actually, I forget WHO I am. Of course, I know my name. But the title of MOM slips my mind as a drift back into a 9 minute snooze. I awake with a start just a few moments later to quickly look at the baby monitor. Had I slept so soundly that I didn’t awake AT ALL overnight? Were the kids OK? Were they even in their beds? Were they covered and warm or were their little hands and feet exposed to the chilly morning air? This never happens. I am up every hour or two overnight checking the eye-in-the-sky for verification that my babies have not run from their beds. I begin to worry that one of them needed me overnight and I had been too down-for-the-count to hear their little cries. I pop into the baby’s room just in time to hear him sigh and roll his head side-to-side. He was fine. Then I watched the toddler lazily roll over on the iPad monitor before she snuggled her dolly a little closer. All was right in our house.
I am writing for the Two Writing Teachers March Writing Challenge