A Nighttime Symphony

A Symphony of Sounds

brought to you by:

Our Nighttime Household

*CLICK* goes the light switch.

*WHIRRR* goes the fan.

Dark goes the room.

*Snore* goes the husband.

My eyelids grow heavy, and after rolling around for a few minutes I drift off. I enter my second life – my vivid dream life. Brilliant colors, background music, swashbuckling adventures await… I don my secondary persona and dash off into adventure….


“MEEEEEEEEEEEH!!!!


I’m ripped out of my dreamworld as Squidgelet gives an angry, hungry grunt and whips his head from side to side. Sleepily, I roll over and pop open the nursing bra clasp. He latches on with a grumpy grunt.

I drift off into a semi-awake state.



*SNORE* goes the husband.

I pop off the Squidgelet and switch him to the other side.

I drift off into that half-awake state again.




Snore goes the husband.

Whirrrr goes the fan.

I'm having a relaxing, half-dream about horses.



The sound of the fish spitting the pebbles against the side of the aquarium wakes me with a jolt, and I realize that Squidgelet is pretty much done. Since I don’t really enjoy being a human pacifier, I pop him off, heave myself up with a grunt, and put him in the swing at the end of the bed.

I crawl back into bed, and after about 10 minutes of tossing and turning, I manage to drift back to sleep. I keep one ear open in case the Squidgelet decides he wasn’t done nursing, but it appears he’s back to sleep.



*CLINK! CLINK! CLINK!* The stupid fish spit pebbles against the glass walls of their aquarium prison. I lay there with my eyes shut, hating them.



CLINK! CLINK!



At some point, I manage to drift off again.




“MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEH!!!!”




With a grumpy sigh I lurch up and crawl across the bed, grabbing the Squidgelet. I hobble on my knees back to my side, and lay down to nurse.

He grunts and latches on angrily. I wince.

I drift off.

The left side begins to run dry. I can tell, because instead of calmly nursing, it feels like the Squidgelet is trying to suck my soul out through my nipple.

I pop him off to switch sides and he squawks angrily. He whips his head about blindly, too angry to latch on to what’s right in front of him. When he finally finds it, he bites down frantically.

I hate growth spurts. I know he’ll be back to normal in a day or so, but in the meantime… C’mon, Squidgelet. Mommy likes having normal boobies. If she was into BDSM and pierced nipples, she’d bring it up with Daddy. Please, please be gentle?



I drift off.




CLINK! CLINK! CLINK!

I hate fish. Tomorrow night we’re going to have goldfish sushi.




Snore goes the husband.

Whirr goes the fan.

My eyelids grow heavy.




“WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!” goes the DragonMonkey.

I lay there a moment, feeling sorry for myself. I glance over at The Bean, who is laying face down, arms akimbo, blissfully sleeping through the racket.

I spend a few moments hating him and his ability to sleep through everything.


“WAAAAAAAAAAH!”


The DragonMonkey begins to shriek louder, and The Squidgelet stirs. With a sigh, I heave myself out of bed. I could wake the Bean, but since I’m already awake, there’s no sense in both of us being up at the same time.

I stumble into DM’s room, where he’s sitting cross-legged in his bed, wailing inconsolably.

“Aww, sweetie, what’s wrong?”

The wailing shuts off mid-scream as he thrusts an empty bottle at me. “NEW BABA. BABA. BABA NEW.”

I take the bottle from him, and he scoops up his blankie, takes a disdainful sniff, and thrusts it at me. “EWWW. Wash blankie,” he demands imperiously.

I pick up the blankie, expecting to feel it soggy with pee… but nope. It’s perfectly dry. Lately the DM has been obsessed with the just-from-the-laundry smell, and apparently the blankie that was washed that afternoon no longer smells like dryer sheets.

I hand it back to him, shaking my head. “I’ll get you a new baba, but your blankie is just fine.”

He thrusts it back at me. “Blankie EWWW. Wash. WASH!” he demands.

“I don’t think so, buddy. You did not just wake me up at one in the morning to demand I do your laundry. Nuh-uh. Not happening. Now lay back down.”

He flings himself sullenly on his mattress.

I warm up a bottle of vanilla soy milk (gag!) and give it to him. He accepts it begrudgingly.

I return to bed.

The feel of my weight on the mattress wakes the Squidgelet. I sigh, and pop him back on to nurse.




Whirr goes the fan.

Snore goes the husband.

Clink, clink, go the stupid, idiotic soon-to-be-short-lived fish.




I drift off.




WHINE goes the dog.




I jolt awake, disbelieving. No. I didn’t just hear that. No way.




WHINE, WHINE goes Max.




Forget the fish. Forget sleepless nights. Forget traffic, and coffee stains on white blouses, and living in the city. Forget cancer and Hitler and rheumatoid arthritis.

I don’t hate any of those things anymore.

I hate the dog.



WHINE, WHINE, WHIIIIIIIIINE goes the dog.




I burst out of bed and go charging down the hallway like an angry Minotaur.

The dog takes one look at me and averts his eyes.

I fling open his kennel door and he skitters outside, sniffing the ground and circling.

I wait by the sliding glass door, toe tapping furiously. Pee, already. Pee, you dumb, whiny, sleep-depriving, useless animal. I glance at the clock on the stove - two in the morning. The alarm goes off at five. Yaaay.

Max finally pees then returns to the door, looking up at me lovingly with his tail stump waggling. I love you. I love you, my mistress. Thank you. Thank you for letting me pee. I love you.

I relent, and briefly reach down to scratch behind is ears. I still resent him, but I no longer daydream about tossing him down the garbage disposal. “Good boy, Max. Go to bed.”

He does.

So do I.




“MEEEEHHH…” Squidgelet wants to wake up, but I’ve already anticipated him and I pop him on a boob before he can get going.




Whirr goes the fan.

Snore goes the husband.

Clink, clink go the fish.




I drift off.