Can't sleep. Not sure why. I'm to tired not to. I blame it on daylight savings.
I hear a clown get up. It's her turn. At this rate I'm sure I'll get it soon. It wasn't pretty with the first clown this past weekend. We were both up all night.
She's already up and starts the clean up. She has sick clown duty during the week. I feel sorry for her, but not sorry enough to trade her places. I feel sorry for the clown. I'm not sure which one it is. I don't want to know. I'm tired and I have to get up early. I hear them in the living room. She makes her a makeshift bed on the couch, and gets herself set up in the recliner. It's a terrible sleep I know, but that's what parents do. Good parents anyway. Isn't that the basic function of a parent? Being there for them to clean up the mess?
I lay here, my knee throbs. Even in the middle of the night it hurts. She comes in the room. I pretend to sleep. Not moving. Barely breathing. When she leaves I think back about a younger me. Think about how I got to the point in my life, this point, where I have a bum knee. What's next, telling stories of when I walked to school up a hill?
Footsteps race across the hard wood floor. I soon hear the sound of Ralph. I know it's coming for me. It's out there. Waiting. I have the fear of a teenager in a horror movie knowing that Freddie or Jason is coming to get me and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I don't want it. I can't get it. Not now, not ever.
J-Tony
Just Write
I hear a clown get up. It's her turn. At this rate I'm sure I'll get it soon. It wasn't pretty with the first clown this past weekend. We were both up all night.
She's already up and starts the clean up. She has sick clown duty during the week. I feel sorry for her, but not sorry enough to trade her places. I feel sorry for the clown. I'm not sure which one it is. I don't want to know. I'm tired and I have to get up early. I hear them in the living room. She makes her a makeshift bed on the couch, and gets herself set up in the recliner. It's a terrible sleep I know, but that's what parents do. Good parents anyway. Isn't that the basic function of a parent? Being there for them to clean up the mess?
I lay here, my knee throbs. Even in the middle of the night it hurts. She comes in the room. I pretend to sleep. Not moving. Barely breathing. When she leaves I think back about a younger me. Think about how I got to the point in my life, this point, where I have a bum knee. What's next, telling stories of when I walked to school up a hill?
Footsteps race across the hard wood floor. I soon hear the sound of Ralph. I know it's coming for me. It's out there. Waiting. I have the fear of a teenager in a horror movie knowing that Freddie or Jason is coming to get me and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I don't want it. I can't get it. Not now, not ever.
J-Tony
Just Write
I know that feeling!!! Take your vitamins, Airborne, drink lots of water.....and pray! ;-)
ReplyDeletePS...hug that Super Mom, will ya??
The barfing disease is awful! It's possible you may circumvent it...possible :)
ReplyDeleteAnd at 32 I have a bum knee... Justsayin
I hope you haven't come down with it!
ReplyDeleteBut yeah, when it's the other parent's turn, you have to stay in bed. It's the only way. I promise you that us mom's do it when it's your turn. :)