I chose the dates in the waiting room of my kids’ dentist. I rolled dice and arbitrarily chose dates based on the numbers that showed up with each roll of the dice.

I also had the pleasure of sitting with a Turkish grandmother who didn’t speak any English. We managed to communicate in a female, maternal way that transcended any real words. I used a “bee buzz” sound to describe my middle son, a steady hand / ocean wave motion to describe my youngest and oldest sons and then we “spoke” effusively about the World Cup. “Keeek! Keeek ball! Futbol!”

I will try to keep these posts to less than 500 words. (These words don’t count — ha ha, nor does the quote.)

Here is the quote:

January 4 — Laugh more. Children laugh dozens of times a day. Laughing decreases blood pressure and relieves tension. Find something funny in your life today and laugh at it. Better yet, find something about yourself to laugh at.

Done.

I laugh at least a few dozen times a day. My kids are hilarious and the dogs are too. The way Charlie goes after our cat makes me belly laugh. He jumps around the house like PePe LePew, “ga-doink, ga-doink, ga-doink…”

I have taken up wearing ear plugs to sleep now. It has happened. My husband snores while he “sleeps.” It’s really hard on me.

Our bedroom door is also very noisy. It’s like all the door jambs on the entire second floor of our house were lined with fly paper; there’s always the top of a door riding along the frame or another door sticking or a door knob jamming. Of all the bedroom doors, I feel ours is the most annoying. It’s one of those “French-like door” assemblies: two solid doors; one has the peg that fits into the frame when you slide it up (but it doesn’t always stay up because, gravity, so it’s a pain) and then the other door that is supposed to fit all nice and snug.

Have I mentioned that it’s summer here? The doors stick extra tight when it’s summer. Because Virginia.

So I’m prepping for sleep. It’s about 11pm. I have my ear plugs in because my husband’s William Tell Overture has begun. I’m out in less than five minutes.

The door to our room bursts open, but not until both doors swing loose; one bangs into my dresser, the other hits the hamper. Lights are out, everywhere except the hallway behind the doors, so in blasts the sun because my middle son walks into the doors, says very loudly (but mostly unintelligibly because I have my ear plugs in), “I’M NOT FEELING WELL I THINK I’M GONNA BARF…” to which I bolt upright and say, “WHAT? EAR PLUGS!” I pull my plugs out of my ears, Sir Snoresalot is still going strong as a door swings back so wildly it smacks my son in the face.

He turns around. I’m still getting ear plugs out of my ears (but trying not to lose them). At this point, I’m a little mad that Dearest is still snoring. So I am extra loud. “DID YOU SAY YOU FEEL SICK? THEN GO BARF IN THE TOILET. WHAT CAN I DO?”

Thing 2 does one of two things every time he’s unwell in the middle of the night: He either blasts into my room with the announcement, as he just did, or he pukes all over his bed, walls and carpeting. It never really quite makes it into the toilet.

“That was cold,” said my husband. “Why don’t you go after him?”

I explained that I would, but that I was looking for my ear plugs. I was half awake still, despite all the chaos. I follow T2 into the bathroom after growling at my husband to “see if there is anything I can do.” T2’s not there. He’s gone back to bed. He’s already asleep. Feeling better.

I stumble back our room, knocking into the loose door and attempting (extra loudly) to reset it.

>Yawn, stretch.<

>Flop on bed. Reinsert ear plugs.<

Twenty minutes later, our youngest tinkers with the door like a Nixon apprentice at Watergate and rambles into our room. He is ten.

“Mom.”

“No.”

“Mom.”

“No. Ear plugs. Tap me three times if you’re sick. Once if you’re scared.”

. . . . . Tap. . . . .

“Lie down on the floor. I don’t want to talk. Your brother just woke us up about 20 minutes ago. Just lie down. Whatever scared you isn’t real. It was just a bad dream.”

. . . . . . Tap. . . .Tap. . . . . .

“I didn’t give you two taps as a choice. What? Wait. Earplugs. …”

I remove my ear plugs. I search the darkness. He was kind. He did not turn on the sun before entering my room.

“Mom. I have a confession to make.”

“Oh honey, it can wait. Unless the house is on fire. Then it can’t wait.”

“I was on the computer downstairs and I went on youTube … I saw some … ”

“Wait. Dan. Dan. >nudge HISS nudge< Wake up. I think you need to be awake…He’s talking about a confession and youTube…”

>stir rumble stir … groan rumble stir<

“Yeah bud? What’s up? Mom said you have a confession…”

“I was on youTube and I saw something. I know I should have asked you first. I know that you said to not go on youTube without your permission, but I was so curious. I had to look and I saw this … laptop that I want. I clicked ‘LIKE’ on the video and now I’m afraid I bought it! I am afraid you’re going to get … SPAAAAAAAAA-AAAAAAMMMM! I’M SO SORRRRRRREEEEEY…”

>snarf, sniffle sniffle snarf.<

He’s such a sweetie. They all are. My boys are not perfect but they are very tender people still. Even the 16-year-old investment banker.

We had a little chat about the youTube rule (because the last thing we want him to think is that we have no idea of what he “likes”) and explained that he didn’t buy the computer and that he wasn’t in trouble. He did end up staying on the space on my side of the bed though.

I know that one day I will miss these little intrusions. Soon enough they will be off and in college, stumbling into some other door jamb and barfing in the back of their friends’ car or at a fraternity house.

So that’s how my evening went the other night. I did eventually get back to sleep, but not before 12:30.

I hope that made you laugh a little. If not, go laugh some more.

Thank you.