An Hour in My Shoes

Yesterday morning, my wonderful husband decided that he would let me sleep in because he knew how sleep deprived I've been. He said that he would handle the kids while I slept in for a couple of hours. So, at 7:30 he took Maia Belle and closed the bedroom door and let me get back to my sweet dreams. I dreamt of a little boy screaming from his crib and a daddy telling him to shush. Then the little boy ran from his daddy yelling "Whey ees Daa Daa" (translation: Where is Mama). I was startled out of my sweet dreams by Noah barging into my room and yelling "Dey ee is" (translation: There she is.) Ricky quickly pulled him out of my room and locked the door so he could no longer come in. It took me awhile to fall back to sleep as Noah was standing at the door yelling for me, Ricky was trying to coax him away from the door while shushing him, and Maia Belle started to cry because Noah's yelling scared her. My dream for the next 45 minutes consisted of a baby crying, a little boy terrorizing his house, and a daddy's constant rebuking. By this point I decided enough was enough. If I didn't rescue my husband right that second, I would no longer have a family. I knew that he was on the verge of killing our children.  I stopped pretending I was dreaming and faced the fact that I would never again in my life get to sleep in past 7. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the scene that awaited me on the other side of the door...I found a trail of toys in the hallway, a screaming baby in the office in her bassinet with a soaking wet diaper, Ricky trying to shove a pacifier in her mouth to get her to shut up, and Noah shirtless with a shoe lace around his neck dropping a handful of toys in the dining room and wondering if I was the one who was going to finally feed him. My dear sweet husband looked at me with desperation in his eyes and said, "How the heck do you do this everyday?" The time was 8:30 a.m.