by Lori Ann
I just woke up to Tigger’s bedtime alarm — you know, the one that is set to 6:45pm to remind us it’s time to BEGIN bedtime. I rolled over, and she was lying on the floor next to me, still steadily breathing despite the sound. I rose to quiet the alarm and she stirred a little but was quieted back into a deep slumber with just a little dream nursing. I know this probably means she’ll wake early (before 7) tomorrow morning, but the same would happen if she woke now and didn’t get to bed for the night til 8:30 or 9, so she might as well continue to rest.
I couldn’t remember when we had fallen asleep, and wondered what Baba would be thinking. I snuck out her room (a difficult task these days since the door refuses to not creak, and the doorknob comes off like George Bailey’s loose knob on the stair bannister in It’s a Wonderful Life). I checked for Baba in his office, the kitchen, and the living room, but he was where I should have looked first: in our bed, fast asleep on his tummy with an eyemask to block out the still-bright light from the window.
I suddenly realized I was starving, and was thankful for the bean dip in the refrigerator and the crackers in the cupboard. Baba bought what we needed for chicken noodle soup this morning, but I was in no mood to cook. I finished off the bean dip and crackers, ate an apple Tigger only nibbled on at lunch, and ate carrot/zucchini/oat muffins I’d made this morning but not had the appetite for.
So now I’m resting here, enjoying our (ugly but) soft couch and the cool breeze from the open living room window. The photo is from last weekend, Tigger resting on Baba’s chest, though all you see is her hat and back, his arm and knee, and the treetops. I guess I’ve been vague but Baba and I seem to have giardia, his worse than mine but with affordable medicine to treat it ($0.45), me prepared to try the raw garlic remedy a friend recommended since breastfeeding mothers aren’t supposed to take any of the giardia medicines the doctor mentioned.