Sleep Train of Thought

Kiki on her "Cheetah Train." Where does she come up with this stuff?

Kiki has a cough, again. It has been ping ponging through our house since November. Cough medicine does not seem to exist anymore.  I remember as a kid, lining up with all my brothers and sisters, as my mom served us each a big spoonful of Dimetapp. The grape sweet syrup was the delicious reward for having a cough. I doubt my mom was ever able to serve just one of us because once any of the rest sniffed the open bottle in the vicinity, we would all come running towards her with an open mouth, feigning a coughing fit.

The closest thing to cough syrup is a blend of honey called ZarBees. I had to give George a teensy little bit on the spoon because when I pulled the bottle down to give Kiki her spoonful, George rounded the corner full speed, clawing up my leg screaming, “Zeebees, Zeebees!”

I filled Kiki’s spoon with George still under my feet, and as I moved the spoon to her mouth, a drizzle fell off the side and landed in his eye. He smeared it around, and after registering what happened, he started to cry. I poured the spoonful down Kiki’s throat and then picked up George and flushed out his eye above the kitchen sink.

When I was rocking him to sleep, I thought, “Did I read somewhere that honey in the eye can cause blindness?” I laid him in the crib, and rushed to the computer to do a Google search on honey in the eye. Phew! Contrary to my fear, honey is a natural way of healing eye infections and, in addition, might lighten one's eye color. The latter though is inconclusive, and there is a lively debate taking place on yahoo questions.

Around 3 am George woke up. He was not crying hysterical but was calling, “Mommy, mommy!” in long whiney tear filled cries. I don’t like going into his room because he never falls back to sleep easily. It always turns into three hours of hell. I was going to just ride it out. It had only been 5 minutes, but as I was lying in bed awake, I started thinking about what the neighbor told me earlier.

The neighbor informed me he found a homeless person living in his back shed. His house is empty because he has it up for sale, but he comes over often to check mail, and do maintenance work. I freaked out a bit because the fence is broken in areas between our two houses and the kids play in the back yard throughout the day.

Increasingly I worried that the homeless guy had woken up George, and could possibly be standing at his window. I walked to George’s room and picked the baby up and laid with him on a little bed made on the floor. Of course, he didn't fall asleep, but constantly moved around, never getting comfortable.

I had another thought enter my head, “What if the homeless guy tapped on George’s window, to wake him up, and then after seeing me come in here, is now at Kingsley’s window.” That thought started to make me sweat, and my ears were tuned into every noise in the house. 

Sleeping sound

Around 5 am, I had to leave the baby because there was no other option at this point. I had hit my maximum level of compassion, and was exhausted. After 10 minutes of him calling out for me, he fell back to sleep.

When I looked on the screen and saw him sleeping, I kicked myself, and thought, “I should have put him in that crib an hour ago. I would be sleeping now.”

Then I laid my head on the pillow, taking some deep breaths to unwind from the frustrating last two hours, and I thought, “I wonder if George’s left eye is going to be a lighter color than his right eye tomorrow.” And I pictured him with one brown eye and one blue eye and fell asleep.

Just a blue tongue today, from a Jolly Rancher