An American (Mother's) Horror Story

Yesterday was an incredibly longggg day. I was fasting to make up days from last Ramadan (it's a Muslim thing). The boys were being particularly insane (I was probably more grouchy from lack of coffee/food), and I had no energy. Thankfully, my husband decided to pick up dinner for me to break fast with, and we would consider it a mini date, since he was going out of town. We eat our dinner and I run out to the grocery store to get stuff, so that I wouldn't have to shop with the boys (another horror story).

I find grocery shopping alone extremely relaxing, but didn't want to take too long this time, because I was so tired. I finished my trip and texted my husband that I would be home, so that he could help me out carrying the stuff in. He grabbed most of the bags and waited for me to walk in, which I thought was odd. There, waiting for me, when I opened the door, was a sight I really did not want to see. The baby was awake, and playing, and in the mood to party. Are you kidding me???!!!! I asked my husband how long he was awake for, and he told me the story...

Shortly after I had left for the grocery store, he was watching TV when he began to hear noises. Now, my older son has an imaginary friend, and sometimes our own imaginations get to us.  He went to hear what all the noise was, so he crept quietly up the stairs. He gingerly opened the bedroom door, and looked to his right. There, standing on the rocking chair, playing with the switch for the fan, was the baby. My husband almost screamed, thinking it was something else, and grabbed him.  Forty five minutes later, I came home to the party.

As I am writing this, he's screaming in mock agony and pain, refusing to sleep. He has escaped, yet again, and is keeping his older brother awake with his crying. I feel bad for big brother, but life's tough. Maybe (God willing) they'll both sleep in tomorrow. One can hope...

Oh how I miss you...