I'm not referring to the office supply store, but rather the small town in Minnesota found here. DRL, Elena and I spent the weekend at a friend's cabin, I mean farm I mean property, and it's the first time we've been up there since before I got pregnant with Little One. I was a little petrified (read: terribly, horribly afraid) of how Elena would do sleeping somewhere other than home, as we have never vacationed overnight as a family.
Did I mention we were going to sleep in a tent? I didn't? Oh, silly me. We planned to sleep in a a tent.
Yes, planned.
Elena and I ventured into our brand-spankin' new Coleman tent at about 10:30, already one solid hour past her bedtime. She rolled around for about 15 minutes trying to escape to the outside where three rambunctious boys were still playing in the dark. I managed to lull her to sleep by singing the ABC's over and over and over again until my voice was hoarse. Then I laid awake for three hours terrifed that the loose sleeping bag would fall over her face and suffocate her (yes, she is old enough to move a blanket off her own face). Then I started to get worried that she would get too cold (she is also old enough to wake up if she's too hot, too cold, too wet, or sick of laying next to her paranoid mother in a cold tent). And I kept hearing Terry Pound's voice cackle with laughter in the night, as he, DRL, and my brother-in-law Tony sat by the fire - a mere 50 feet from the door of my sleeping quarters.
At 1:30 am I thrust on my pants, grabbed my pillow and scurried into the house. I climbed up the most treachorous flight of stairs you've ever imagined and fell onto a lumpy futon. Elena barely stirred. I lay awake for another hour. Finally at 2:30 sleep was upon me.
At 3:something I was up listening to Terry snore.
At 4:something I was up again. I guess C-Pap machines are not on the list of things to pack when going away for a weekend (and sleeping in a room with others).
At 6:30 Elena was up for the day.
Jealous?
More later.....
Did I mention we were going to sleep in a tent? I didn't? Oh, silly me. We planned to sleep in a a tent.
Yes, planned.
Elena and I ventured into our brand-spankin' new Coleman tent at about 10:30, already one solid hour past her bedtime. She rolled around for about 15 minutes trying to escape to the outside where three rambunctious boys were still playing in the dark. I managed to lull her to sleep by singing the ABC's over and over and over again until my voice was hoarse. Then I laid awake for three hours terrifed that the loose sleeping bag would fall over her face and suffocate her (yes, she is old enough to move a blanket off her own face). Then I started to get worried that she would get too cold (she is also old enough to wake up if she's too hot, too cold, too wet, or sick of laying next to her paranoid mother in a cold tent). And I kept hearing Terry Pound's voice cackle with laughter in the night, as he, DRL, and my brother-in-law Tony sat by the fire - a mere 50 feet from the door of my sleeping quarters.
At 1:30 am I thrust on my pants, grabbed my pillow and scurried into the house. I climbed up the most treachorous flight of stairs you've ever imagined and fell onto a lumpy futon. Elena barely stirred. I lay awake for another hour. Finally at 2:30 sleep was upon me.
At 3:something I was up listening to Terry snore.
At 4:something I was up again. I guess C-Pap machines are not on the list of things to pack when going away for a weekend (and sleeping in a room with others).
At 6:30 Elena was up for the day.
Jealous?
More later.....
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