wheels of fortune

So, last night was a wild one. And, I wish I could say it involved, perhaps, over-imbibing or an impromptu trip to Vegas or, gosh, you know it's bad when you can't even think of anymore examples of a 'wild night.' Help me out here. Anyway, yes, it was wild, and it involved two mostly exhausted adults and one small, but restless toddler sandwiched between them -- all in a not-so-large queen-sized bed. Wild, I tell you. So wild that I will have to give you the abridged version because I am tired from last night and I want to go to sleep. But I want to write. So here's where I usually say 'screw it' and sell out for sleep, which explains the recent blog drought.

I digress. Which is another reason I don't write more blogs. Because instead of getting right to the point, I drone on about what I am about to write about, like I'm doing now. So, about last night...

Eli woke up before we even went to bed. It really sucks when that happens, you know, because we usually put him down 8ish (which involves the ritualistic storytime, songs, soothing, and all of us usually dozing off in the bed together), then we wake ourselves up so we can have like an hour of togetherness to remind ourselves that we still exist, which is sometimes followed up by having a drink (or two) to forget that we exist, or at least that all the annoyances of the day do. And, then, you guessed it...then, we are ready to sing ourselves a song and put our tired asses to bed. So, you can imagine how much it sucks when this ritual is interrupted (no, derailed) by a child waking after he has already been sent to that wonderful mattress behind bars we call dreamland. Yeah, well, it does suck, okay. But only really initially and then finally, if that makes any sense. The in-between part tricks you into thinking it will be okay. The beginning sucks because you're like, crap, I was just about to go to sleep, but then you get over it and you think, okay, they're only young once, and it is really sweet to snuggle and spoon and to watch their little nostrils flare as they breathe in and out, content to know that you are holding them and that they are warm and safe in YOUR bed. And it really is sweet, and you even go so far as to think, gosh, we should do this every night, at least until we have another kid. And you snuggle closer and press your cheek against theirs and bury your nose in their neck. And, then, just as you are about to doze off with a huge smle on your face (your husband is already sleeping, no, snoring, by the way, and has been since two seconds after your plopped the kid in between the two of you)...THEN, THEN, the kid starts to thrash about (eyes closed and, sort of still sleeping, which is, I'll admit, slightly bizarre and a bit demonic-looking), rolling from side to side, banishing you and your already-snoring husband to the far-right and far-left kingdoms of the bed, while marking his territory with limbs outstretched farther than you thought they could go (after all, he IS only two and not even supposed to be THAT long). And then he goes through the entire routine again, this time, adding a couple of headstands and a side kick to the ribs (yours, not his), and somewhere in the middle of all the thrashing, he gets tired, and falls back asleep. Oh, and then you realize you have to pee.

:::

We had another showing of the house today. Well, let me back up...we were supposed to have another showing, so we busted tuchis to make sure the house was all shiny and freakin' sparkly, and then we don't even think they showed. Yeah. We were really happy 'bout that one.

So, all we wanted to do was sit on our aforementioned busted tuchises (?) and watch some mindless TV, but, oh, that's right, we downgraded to basic cable yesterday so we could save money to buy our damn dream house in Maryland, and the sleezy cable guy left us with 12 channels of nothing but purely frustrating FUZZBALLS -- except for the channel that broadcasts Wheel of Fortune at precisely the time when we were feeling defeated and just wanted to wallow in our defeatedness while lying on our backs and watching some TV. So, we did it anyway, and this is how the conversation went (with Eli, on the floor, lying on his back in between us, staring at the ceiling, without a doo-waa-diddy-diddy-dum-diddy-du care in the world):

Shaun: I can't believe Pat has done this show for so long.
Me: Yeah, no kidding.
Shaun: And, Vanna. What a loser. All she does is turn letters.
Me: Ha, ha (while secretly thinking that maybe I would still be turning letters too if I was a smokin'-hot 50-something).

*We stopped talking to try to solve some puzzles, most of which were lame, of course, except for the 'Before and Afters,' which I am quite amused by and quite enjoy for some odd reason. (And I would make some silly one up as an example here if I could think of one, but I just can't because I'm brainless after 9 pm.) Then, someone asks for a "T," which is, like, only the MOST POPULAR LETTER EVER on WOF, and, GASP, there is no "T," to which Pat responds, "No 'T', wow." You could tell he was shocked.

Me: Remember when the contestants got to go shopping at the end of each round? You know, with their heads swirling around in little bubbles all over the showroom floor?
Shaun: Yeah, and they would say, 'I'd like the life-size porcelain dalmation for $500, Pat.
Me: Yeah, exactly.


I think cancelling the cable was a bad idea.