Brain Freeze

You may not have noticed, but I’m not posting as often as I use to. It’s not that these people I live with aren’t providing me ample blog fodder. Nothing could be further from the truth. I place the blame on brain freeze.

Let me explain.

Jensen is still requesting my presence in his bedroom at dark thirty. Translated: anywhere from midnight until 5 AM. We’re on the right track, as it’s not EVERY night, but just enough to give me dark circles, a bad disposition, and a daily headache.

I’ve implemented “Baby Boot Camp”. Again. When he screams out in the middle of the night, I stumble to his room to make sure he’s all right. Because from the sound of him, you would think some horrible disaster has befallen him. When he was smaller, he often would get a meaty thigh stuck in the crib railing. But now that is the least of his worries, since he has no body parts that will even fit through the slats. Much less get stuck. So, I hoist him onto the changing table (and mind you the screaming ceases the minute I enter the room, so I know he’s not dying), change his diaper, and put him right back to bed. I do not make eye contact (even if I could focus), and I no longer rock him back to sleep. When I first morphed into “Major Mom” and was all business in the middle of the night, he was highly incensed that I didn’t stay to entertain him and he let everyone in the houses on either side of us know it. That went on for a few nights, and now finally, he just gives up and goes back to sleep.

But I don’t.

I lay in bed, staring at the interior of my black zorro sleeping mask, and I compose the shopping list, balance the checkbook, and diagram each sentence in the Preamble to the Constitution. All in my mind.

Therefore, it is not unusual that I have a headache during the day. And during the day, Excedrin works okay, but I’ve found something even better. We have a soft sided ice pack that I wear on my head. I still have decent balance, all things considered, so I just perch it on top of my head and go about my business. The first morning I tried it, I wore it all during homeschooling my children. They didn’t even mention it.

I guess they’re getting use to me.

After awhile, I just forget about it. Until it loses it’s icy coldness. Or I bend over to pick something up. So, Fiddledaddy fashioned me a velcro strap that I can just wrap around the top of my head and secure under my chin.

The other night, my headache persisted until bedtime. I hurried to get the ice pack out of the freezer, because often Fiddledaddy and I will fight over it. I put my retainer in, got myself all situated, placed my ice pack on my head, and then pulled my Zorro mask over the whole thing.

I heard the freezer door open as the kitchen is right next to the master suite. Which is handy. Fiddledaddy let out a disappointed exhale. A few steps and he paused at the doorway to our room. Undoubtedly reflecting on his good fortune to have married such a fetching woman. “I’m going to get the camera,” he said.

“Don’t even think about it mithter. Jutht remember, paybackths are thwift and hideouth,” I lisped. He’s a smart man, he just climbed into bed and didn’t say another word.

The point of all of this, (and you thought I couldn’t possibly have a point), is to say that wearing an ice pack on top of my head is leaving me void of the ability to form compound sentences and thoughts. Which can really be kind of nice. But not so good for blogging.

So, I’m going to take the weekend and let my brain thaw out a little, and then I’ll attempt to dazzle with a pithy mediocre story or two next week.

Have a wonderful weekend, y’all.

Addendum: Junior slept through the night last night. The ice pack is in it’s rightful place in the freezer. And all is well in the House of Fiddle.