Crybaby Press

Sleeping With an Octopus

My mom was telling me the other day about this Facebook friend she has who is always posting about how tired she is. Every status update is something about needing coffee or not being able to sleep or having a headache. Riveting stuff. But my question to my mom's Facebook friend is DOES SHE KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO SLEEP WITH A GIANT OCTOPUS?

I know I posted a few days back about how I hoped my first grader would climb into my bed. And wasn't that so sweet and poignant? Well, she did come back the next night. A few nights later, I tried to snuggle her, pulling her soft little body to me. She opened up those blue little kitten eyes, blinked those beautiful long, dark lashes and screamed, "MOVE!" in a scratchy, deep voice that sounded like a bus driver with road rage.

And she's just my first problem. The other one is afraid of the movie "Orphan" and ends up in my room pretty regularly too. No, I didn't let him see it. What, are you crazy? It was the god damned trailers that aired during "So You Think You Can Dance" in the summer- the ONE freaking television show they watch!

Anyway, after several nights of moving to the foot of my Queen bed and trying to sleep sideways but ending up with little feet in face, I had the brilliant idea that we ALL should lie sideways. That would give everyone more room, right? And I don't really care if my feet hang off the edge, right?

Yeah. More room to tangle their eight skinny, knobby limbs around me and each other. It is, I kid you not, like sleeping with a giant, snuffly, mouth-breathing, sleep-talking, bony octopus. One that tangles up the sheets and the duvet until it feels like a straight jacket or throws it off the bed altogether so we can all shiver under the fan in the air conditioning.  One that gets up for water or to pee or to yell at someone for taking its pillow every hour on the hour.

 I know, I know, I've allowed this to happen. OR, I'll be sad when they are all grown up and no one will snuggle me. OR, I'm going to miss this time soon enough. Yeah. I know. But, dammit, I'm tired. I need to get the octopus OUT of my bed.

September 8th

Something happened on September 8th, 2003. Something so shocking and tragic that it changed everything in my world forever .

On September 8th, 2003, my dad died. He died of a massive heart attack in his home. He was 52.

When I went to his house the day after he died, I saw a check he had written to one of those storage unit places dated September 9, 2003. He must have written it the day he died. I remember being stunned. Not for the obvious reason, not for the fact that he actually wasn't alive on September 9th. What stunned me was that in the very last hours of his life, so unaware of what was about to happen to him, unsuspecting of the fact he was living the very last moments of his life, he thought, "Oh shit. I need to pay for the storage unit. Better write that check now so I don't forget." So mundane.  I was stunned by how death can just nail you. Out of nowhere. Nothing rare or poetic about it. Just- BAM!- massive heart attack. Dead. Over.

This is so hard to write about because it is so complicated. I didn't think it was. At first, I just thought of it like: My dad died. I'm sad. What else is there to say?

But there is more to it than that. Someday, I might be able to sort it out on paper and in my head. Someday. For now, it's September 8th. I will always ache with love on this day for my dad, who I will miss forever.