At 2:18 am I woke up, cold and disoriented, in a giant puddle of water. Ryan was sitting up next to me, an empty water bottle in her hand. I had a vague memory of her coming into my room, saying she was thirsty. I gave her my water bottle and I guess I just fell back to sleep.
I scooped her up and put her back in her bed and tried to go back into mine. I even laid down a couple of towels, but it was like sleeping in Lake Michigan.
I swung my feet to the floor and tried to regroup. That’s when I began to hear monkey-type sounds coming from the kitchen.
I padded upstairs, to find that Kai was sitting at the kitchen table, eating ice cream out of the carton, bathed in bluish light from the iPad. He was watching Curious George.
I put the ice cream away and hauled him downstairs. Since my bed had standing water in it, we piled into Ryan’s.
Ryan was delighted to see us. “Hi, Kai!” she chirped.
“It’s not time for conversation,” I advised her. “It’s time for sleep.”
Ryan tossed and turned. At one point, a toenail grazed my cheek. I slept fitfully for a little while, until a buzzing sound woke me up again.
Kai was playing Bike Race on my iPhone. I have no idea when he’d even gotten up to get it, but I reached over and yanked it out of his hands.
“It’s 4:13 am,” I said. “It’s not time for Bike Race. It’s time for sleep.”
“I want the iPad,” Ryan said.
“No you don’t, you’re asleep,” I countered.
I fell asleep for a little while again. In my dream, I stumbled out of Ryan’s room to find a giant mess that Kai had made, ripped wrapping paper all over the floor, a sea of crumbs and dishes and toys. In the dream, I cleaned it all up, and then I dreamed I woke up and the clean-up had been a dream and I still had to face that when I got up. That was when Scott woke me for real to tell me that my alarm was going off in the other room.
The kids had finally passed out, and I decided to let them sleep in and be late for school, more for my benefit than theirs. I needed to stare into space for a while.
I went to the kitchen for coffee, noting with relief that the only evidence of Kai’s nocturnal prowling was the iPad on the table and a chair in front of the freezer, dragged over so he could reach the ice cream.
I surfed on my computer for a few minutes.
And then there was a knock on the door, and my life flashed before my eyes.
Standing on my porch was Jovan. His mother was dropping him off so I could take him to school. I had forgotten completely. I looked at the clock. 7:56 am. Lunches weren’t made. Breakfast was only a notion. Kai wasn’t dressed. Ryan was still in bed, asleep. I had 12 minutes. 15 tops. And I couldn’t be late because Jovan isn’t my kid.
:::
I dropped Jovan off last week as a favor to Bridget, who is a teacher. Her husband had an early morning gig and couldn’t take him.
It actually made the morning run better. The boys were too distracted by the new-ness of the situation to protest piling into the car. They held hands as they walked into the school.
I told Bridget that I would do that for her any time, and I meant it. I still do.
But OMG.
Jovan took his boots and coat off while I roughly pulled a shirt down over Kai's head and handed him his underpants.
"That's underwear, not underpants," Kai said.
"Just put them on!" I snapped.
“How long do we have to play?” Jovan asked.
“Not long, kid,” I said.
Scott brought Ryan upstairs. She was crying and wriggling to get free. He had tried to put some pants on her.
“No pants! No PAAAANTS!” she wailed.
The toast popped in the toaster. I had exactly three minutes left to pack a lunch.
“You know what?” I said to her. “Fine. No pants. You’re going to be cold, just an FYI.”
She calmed down immediately.
I began to chivvy Kai into his coat and hat, smearing butter on toast and handing it to him.
“Jovan, why don’t you find your boots?” I suggested.
“But I’m not done playing,” he said, furiously working to put together a train track.
Scott found Jovan's boots and tried to help him into them, but Jovan tucked his feet underneath of him and refused to budge.
And so, I decided to treat Jovan like one of my own children.
“Kid, you don’t have to wear your boots or your coat, but Mr. Judy is going to carry you to the car with your boots on or not.”
Jovan regarded me thoughtfully for a moment, and reached for his boots. Jovan must read the blog.
Kai refused to get dressed once. Once.
I shoved Kai’s lunch into his backpack, grabbed Ryan and we left.
It was 8:13.
We were early.
As I drove home, Ryan asked for some pants.
And I ended up having a pretty good day. If Jovan hadn’t shown up, I would probably still be in my pajamas. Probably weeping.
Afterword: Ryan fell asleep in the car that day at 3, and didn’t wake up until 7 am the next day.
“I’m hungry,” she said by way of a greeting.
And I supposed that she probably was.
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