My husband has been losing a great deal of sleep lately. It could be because we recently hospitalized our daughter for depression and two days later, she called insisting that if we didn't come and release her, she was leaving on her own, getting her child, and we'd never see them again.
This morning, Druck and I were sitting on our bed with our cups of coffee in hand, trying to sort out where we go next. Catherine was on the computer in the kitchen looking for a husband on-line while Liam screamed for attention from his saucer seat.
"I don't know how you do it sometimes," he told me after saying that he was not bringing Liam and Catherine with us to New York this weekend as originally planned. This was for a couple of reasons: (1) when Druck went to pick up Catherine on Saturday morning, he brought Liam, who screamed most of the 40 minute drive there and part of the way back. To try to travel with a five month old for 7 hours just doesn't seem like something we could manage emotionally at this time, nor would it be pleasant for Liam; and (2) Druck is tired of giving in to the various demands imposed upon us on a regular basis.
"I mean you go out there, get your cup of coffee, say good morning cheerfully, and act like everything is fine."
"I don't know what else to do," I replied, taking my first sip of the warm, soothing brew and leaning back against the headboard with a sigh.
"You'd probably be the same way if terrorists descended on our house and took over. At first, you'd be like, 'What are we going to do? They're going to kill us! We have to get them out of our house. NOW!' The next minute, I'd hear you out in the kitchen saying, 'You boys must be so tired from all the terror you are causing, what with the planning and then having to carry it out; why, it must be so draining. Here, let me clean your guns for you."
I just about blew coffee out my nose when he said that and we sat there practically screaming in laughter as he went on. "Then you'd come back in here and say to me, 'I don't know what we are going to do! We have to get these men out of our house!' Five minutes later, you'd be back in the kitchen telling them not to worry, that you would run up to the store and get more ammo for them. 'And I just love that shade of green on you. It shows your skin off so well,' you'd say."
"I might be able to get some good recipes from them, you know."
"I'm sure you could. I'm sure they might even cook for you one night."
"Well, I don't know about that."
Copyright 2008 liamsgrandma
