The Napping House

If you've ever read the story, The Napping House, by Audrey Wood, then you will know what I am talking about when I describe our night last night. First of all, I absolutely adore that book and find it hilarious and beautiful -- but I never claimed I wanted to LIVE in it!

Our house, since we've had Vivienne has become a jungle at night. Our two cats, Sam and June, have suddenly become complete holy terrors at night. If they aren't running around full speed all through the night, crashing into the table and chairs, scaling the sofa, making it sound like an earthquake is going on with the epicenter in our living room -- if they AREN'T doing that -- then they are SCRATCHING at all of the closed doors. Yes, scratching. Our cats are officially nuts. They sit and dig on the hardwood floor as if they are going to tunnel their way into the closet, or the baby's room, or the BATHROOM CABINETS. WTF?? Seriously, they are completely out of their minds, CUCKOO. Then, if they aren't doing those things, Sam is pacing the house MOANING. When I say moaning, I mean howling like a dying hyena all through the house. Ear plugs are no match for him. If they are actually sleeping, they are sleeping on our faces or ON TOP of our legs (usually Mitch's). All of these things were sort of eccentric and funny before Viv arrived. Now they are completely and so utterly and any other word that could describe it, ANNOYING. A typical night at our house goes like this:

Mitch: Goodnight...

Me: Goodnight...

Mitch: Sleep good babe...

Me: You too...

Mitch: F@*@!! June is on my legs and she's doing her creep up the bed thing. Damn it!! I just want to sleep!

Me: Ugh...just kick her off. Use the squirt bottle.

Mitch: No, it's ok. She'll settle down.

Me: K, Goodnight...

Mitch (20 minutes later): Babe, can you use the squirt bottle on June, PUHLEASE!! Vivienne's gonna be up and I haven't even slept! Ugh...

Me: Ugh, yeah I got it...

Me (30 minutes later): omg Mitch, wake up. Sam is digging at the baby's door. If he wakes her up I will skin him alive. (long drawn out sigh)

Mitch: Ugh, (throws covers off), (runs around the house in underwear whispering), God bleep it Sam!, bleep!, bleep bleep bleep!, you better get the bleep away from that door!!

Me: (whispering in a loud repremanding tone), DON'T kick him!!!!

2:30am: both of us wake up with a jolt

Me: omg, earthquake!

Mitch: Those F@#$%^&(()()(_@#@#@# cats!!!!! I'm gonna kill them.. (throws covers off, runs around house in underwear with squirt bottle making kicking motions with his legs). (Cats FLY downstairs making the house shake. Baby stirs).

Me: If you're going to get that mad, we should just give them away.

Mitch: Fine with me, I'm done. Give those F#$#%$(*)$%^ cats away!

Me: OMG, I can't believe you just said that! (in a high pitched girly tone)

Mitch: (disgusted sigh)..ugh, goodnight!

30 minutes later...

Me: Babe, if Sam doesn't stop moaning I'm going to kill him! I haven't slept at all! WHY DOES HE DO THAT!!???!!

Mitch: Thank you for waking me up to tell me that. He does that because he is bleeping PSYCHOTIC!! I'll go open the garage door so they go in there and explore and leave us the bleep alone!!

Me: Thanks...

5:15am: Vivienne crying....

And there you have it, a typical night at the Weathers house. And I did not include the baby feedings, where the cats are all up in our grill. Go and read that book, it is so so so us. And sometimes Viv is in bed with us, which makes the jumping up in your underwear part harder. So just imagine Mitch laying there with a sleeping baby on his chest, whispering to me: If I wasn't holding Vivienne, that cat would be DEAD.

Me: Seriously...