Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Things That Go "AAAAAAAH" In The Night

Just an hour ago I was sleeping peacefully, dreaming about basements or carpet or windows or some other housing-related topic (oh, don't roll your eyes - it only makes good sense that my OCD would carry over into my dreamlife since I am unable to quit thinking about basements and carpet and windows in my awake life, and really, it shouldn't even surprise you anymore when I tell you how weird I am. Because I am BONA FIDE weird, my friends).

But then I heard Alex crying.

And I guess what I mean by 'crying' is that he was shrieking with the force of all nature.

So I jumped out from under the covers and ran to the stairs, which, as best my drowsy brain could deduce, was the general vicinity of All The Noise.

The little man was standing about four steps from the bottom landing, pointing wildly in the direction of the dining room while he perfected his high-pitched screaming techniques. I'm still not sure what 1) prompted him to come downstairs or 2) caused him to reach a whole new level of decibel heights, but the bottom line is that he's now sleeping soundly in our bed, and his daddy and I are wide awake.

I feel that something is wrong with this equation.

But since I'm awake, I will take this opportunity to fill you in on what's going on in our little neck of the woods, and while it's probably a bit presumptuous of me to assume that you, you know, care, I really can't think of anything else to do at 2:53 in the morning except for watching infomercials, and if I do that then I'll never get back to sleep because I'll start obsessing about food dehydrators and the Murad skin care system. And Flowbees.

So let's see.

Alex has started calling one of his buddies from Mother's Day Out his "brother friend," and when he says it my heart skips a beat (or nine) because I often pray that if he is our only child, he will have friends who are like family to him. So in that respect, hearing a three year old say "brother friend" is like God reaching down, patting me on the shoulder, and reassuring me that All Is Well.

It makes me smile. And it melts my heart.

In casting news, David was a bit upset that I chose Andrew Shue to play him in the Lifetime movie I created in my head when we were trapped in the car for two days this past weekend when people were showing our house. Frankly I think that David is still carrying around the stereotype of Billy from "Melrose Place," picturing the guy who stood around shirtless the majority of the time and uttered memorable dialogue like, "UHHHH, Alison!"

I assured my husband that the casting was based solely on people who I thought might be available or willing to make a Lifetime movie - not because they bore any physical or intellectual resemblance to us - but as soon as I finished making my point I realized the insanity, the total insanity, that we were having a discussion - and a lively one, at that - about who we would cast in a Lifetime movie about our real estate misadventures, and clearly it was time to back away from the hypothetical casting ledge.


I have written before about my annoying tendency to completely overlook the obvious.

And so in that tradition, I feel compelled to tell you that yesterday, for the first time in my life, I realized that the phrase "Civil War" is an oxymoron.

Please don't tell my professors from graduate school. They would be mortified.

Not to mention that when I shared my sudden clarity about this phrase with David, he said, "I don't think I would tell anyone that."

But I just did.

You can thank Alex for my exhaustion-induced confession.


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