Liquids and Things That Go Loud in the Night

At least he's not scary.

At least he’s not scary.

Miles run today: 8

Inches of snow we’ve gotten from major storm system headed our way: 0

Gallons of milk bought for major storm: 1 (I am not sure why running out of milk is such a big fear.)

Setting: our kitchen, before breakfast.

My husband: post-coffee.

Me: pre-coffee.

Me: You turned the water on very loudly last night.

Him: I turned the water on. A little bit.

Me: It was loud, like a tsunami.

Him: I got that impression, from your obnoxious “shushing.” I just needed more water. Hmph.

Me: Where’s the coffee?

Back when I was a single girl and waiting tables, we had a name for the things that woke us up in the middle of the night, sweat pouring from our foreheads, imminent danger close at hand: Waitmares.

“I didn’t get that Diet Coke refill out to table 16!”

I would sit up in bed and feel relieved that table 16 would live to drink another day.

Always, it was the drinks.

After we had first one baby, then two, I would often awake to phantom baby cries.

Again with the drinks. I know now that “Crib number 16, more drinks!” is probably what my daughter was screaming all those nights at 2 and 4 a.m.

Of course, there were the very real baby wake-up calls, and then there was the much worse scenario:

The bound-out-of-bed-to-feed-a-crying-baby when the baby was sleeping, well… like a… nevermind. Phantom baby cries were the worst, because you knew that the real cries would be coming just about the time you fell back asleep.


Back when the kids were little, we had carpet in our bedroom. Illness or a horrible troll nightmare would bring a ghosty little child tiptoeing up to my bedside, the body inches from mine without me waking from the dream world.

Then the tiny fingers would brush my shoulder… “Mo-ommy?” a little voice would whisper. “My throat hurts.”


Now, my son’s large, thudding man-feet hit the room’s hardwood floors so I get an early-warning signal.

More liquids needed: Children’s Motrin.

The other day, my husband, who finds it exhilarating to wake up at 4:45 a.m., regarded me with wide-awake eyes across the breakfast table.

Him: Am I really going to have to refill my water glass downstairs in the middle of the night?

Me: Your water sounds were aggressive and way out of line.

Him: Seriously?

Then I kissed him on the top of the head and poured some more coffee.

More liquids needed: this was going to be a multi-liquid day.