Scaredy Cat

I have never lived by myself. In college, I always had roommates, and then I got married right after college. Now that the hubbs has started his third year of medical school (did you just hear an angel chorus singing Hallelujah?), he has to take call some weekends and nights.

Last night was the first night that he was gone until late in the night. For starters, I really looked like this all day yesterday...

...because the little one is sick and is miserable, miserable, miserable. We're talking fussing 24/7. It doesn't matter if I'm holding him or if he's down on the floor. He is an upset mess. So, by the time that I got off the phone with the nurse at the after-hours clinic to find out that I didn't need to bring the toddler in immediately but rather in the morning, I put him to bed (that sounds so easy--it actually took three attempts and lots of screaming/wailing/gnashing of teeth).

After I cleaned up dinner and the house, I sat down to do some work. The house was so quiet. It was dark outside. The blinds were closed. And I was totally freaked out--like the kind of freaked out that you get when you're a twelve year old babysitting for the first time.

I finally made it to bed way earlier than usual. Just as I was drifting off, WHAP!

What was that?!

I sat up in bed and strained every nerve to listen. WHAP!

Oh. The dishwasher.

I realized, as I was drifting off to sleep (only to be oh so lovingly woken up an hour later to two awful kidney stones), that I needed to become less of a chicken. For goodness sake, my husband has to be gone for two months straight next year!!! It's time to be a big girl. :)