Interrupted Sleep and Deferred Perambulations
I was woken several times during the night, but for once Baby Dog was not the culprit. I believe the first interruption of my sleep came at 3:35 when the house, along with the rest of the city, shook. There had been a small quake about three miles away on the Hayward fault. It was only a 3.4, but its proximity made it a substantial, sleep-interrupting jolt. It was Baby Dog’s first noticeable earthquake, but she didn’t notice it. Unlike Mummy and Daddy, she slept through. Apparently there was a larger one a couple of hours earlier, but it was farther away (in Napa), and we didn’t notice it.
The next time I was woken it was because Mama Dog had gotten up and pulled all the covers off the bed, leaving me huddled bare-ass on the bed. “What’re you doing?” I enquired reasonably. She laughed. Evidently it was, from certain perspectives, an amusing situation. “Remaking the bed,” she said. “Uh-huh,” I riposted, then turned over on my side to wait it out. Although this was the first time she’d ever risen in the middle of the night to strip and remake the bed with me still in it, it was not precisely without precedent. Mama Dog is in charge of the bedclothes for the simple reason that she cares how many or which ones are in use and I don’t. For me, a comfortable temperature in bed is a simple thing; if it’s too hot, I kick the covers off. In the unlikely event that it ever got cold enough in California for my own trapped body heat to be insufficient to warm me, I’d just snuggle a little closer to the wife. Simple. For Mama Dog, though, there is a very narrow range of temperatures that is comfortable in bed. Often, adjustments back and forth are made several times through the night. A blanket is added, a blanket is removed. A heavier quilt is substituted for a lighter one. She doesn’t normally change the whole frigging thing, but, hey, it had to happen sometime. I believe I actually helped her make the bed from my position at the northwest corner, pulling and straightening the sheets as she threw them over me. In the morning she looked at the bedclothes and laughed again. “They’re sideways!” she exclaimed. Again, not the sort of thing I’d have been likely to notice in broad daylight, but vive la difference.
Today’s Mummy Day plan: I told Mama Dog she could sleep in as long as she wanted. “‘Til ‘five in the afternoon?” she asked. Well, yeah, sure. But part two was, after she got up and breakfasted we’d take a family stroll, all four of us, over to Bloomie’s to purchase a Mummy’s Day bouquet from Baby Dog and me. Unfortunately, nature continued to attack. It was drizzly bordering on raining all morning and we were still vacillating about undertaking the walk when Baby Dog’s naptime rolled around. After lunch there was a break in the rain and we decided to spring into action. I got Baby Dog suited up while Mama Dog put the leash on Doggy Dog. I was out by the car impressing Mama Dog with my ability to set up the stroller with one arm while holding Baby Dog with the other when the rain started to come down again. Mama Dog tsked. “Let’s just drive,” she said. “What about Doggy Dog?” We’ve never had him in the car with Baby Dog since putting in the new big-girl car-seat in the centre position. He was looking eagerly and expectantly at us, then nervously. Somehow he knew the situation had changed. “Sorry, buddy.” Mama Dog took him back in the house and we drove off to get the bouquet à trois. Major psych for poor Doggy Dog.
It’s dark and cloudy still. Time to put on a mackintosh and make it up to the poor boy. Happy Mummy’s Day, Mama Dog and any other mummies reading here.
The next time I was woken it was because Mama Dog had gotten up and pulled all the covers off the bed, leaving me huddled bare-ass on the bed. “What’re you doing?” I enquired reasonably. She laughed. Evidently it was, from certain perspectives, an amusing situation. “Remaking the bed,” she said. “Uh-huh,” I riposted, then turned over on my side to wait it out. Although this was the first time she’d ever risen in the middle of the night to strip and remake the bed with me still in it, it was not precisely without precedent. Mama Dog is in charge of the bedclothes for the simple reason that she cares how many or which ones are in use and I don’t. For me, a comfortable temperature in bed is a simple thing; if it’s too hot, I kick the covers off. In the unlikely event that it ever got cold enough in California for my own trapped body heat to be insufficient to warm me, I’d just snuggle a little closer to the wife. Simple. For Mama Dog, though, there is a very narrow range of temperatures that is comfortable in bed. Often, adjustments back and forth are made several times through the night. A blanket is added, a blanket is removed. A heavier quilt is substituted for a lighter one. She doesn’t normally change the whole frigging thing, but, hey, it had to happen sometime. I believe I actually helped her make the bed from my position at the northwest corner, pulling and straightening the sheets as she threw them over me. In the morning she looked at the bedclothes and laughed again. “They’re sideways!” she exclaimed. Again, not the sort of thing I’d have been likely to notice in broad daylight, but vive la difference.
Today’s Mummy Day plan: I told Mama Dog she could sleep in as long as she wanted. “‘Til ‘five in the afternoon?” she asked. Well, yeah, sure. But part two was, after she got up and breakfasted we’d take a family stroll, all four of us, over to Bloomie’s to purchase a Mummy’s Day bouquet from Baby Dog and me. Unfortunately, nature continued to attack. It was drizzly bordering on raining all morning and we were still vacillating about undertaking the walk when Baby Dog’s naptime rolled around. After lunch there was a break in the rain and we decided to spring into action. I got Baby Dog suited up while Mama Dog put the leash on Doggy Dog. I was out by the car impressing Mama Dog with my ability to set up the stroller with one arm while holding Baby Dog with the other when the rain started to come down again. Mama Dog tsked. “Let’s just drive,” she said. “What about Doggy Dog?” We’ve never had him in the car with Baby Dog since putting in the new big-girl car-seat in the centre position. He was looking eagerly and expectantly at us, then nervously. Somehow he knew the situation had changed. “Sorry, buddy.” Mama Dog took him back in the house and we drove off to get the bouquet à trois. Major psych for poor Doggy Dog.
It’s dark and cloudy still. Time to put on a mackintosh and make it up to the poor boy. Happy Mummy’s Day, Mama Dog and any other mummies reading here.
posted by PapaDogDuvalier | 6:21 PM
1 Comments:
Sorry About the bummer weather! Hope today is better!
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