Last night, Paul, Daisy, and I had to sleep in our neighbour’s living room because our house was freshly painted which left our entire one acre block smelling like Dr. Evil’s hidden meth lab. At twenty weeks pregnant, this was no place for my fetus or family.
At 3AM Daisy woke up and would NOT go back to sleep. Her shouts and one word vocabulary were getting increasingly louder. In between “Ahhhhh” and “Shooooes!” we worried that we’d wake our neighbour’s baby. Clearly the better parent, Paul volunteered to do our first ever “Drive To Get The Baby To Sleep.” He left around 4am. I’d imagine them circling the block a few times and then Paul doing the careful transfer back to the port-a-cot. When I woke at 6:30, Paul and Daisy had not returned. I wanted to call, but my phone was dead. Determined not to be a completely stressed out basket case, I got dressed and started to make breakfast. At 7AM, Daisy and Paul were at the door. THANK GOD.
Apparently, Daisy had fallen asleep almost immediately in the car. Paul decided to drive to our house to check on the new hedge he was watering over night. (Men are so into irrigation, it’s not even funny.) Since he didn’t have shoes on, he drove up very closely to the plants. The ground ate our tires in a flash. Even as an experienced 4-wheel driver in a 4WD SUV, he couldn’t back out. Since we live in Mudgee and it was freezing outside, Paul opted to not walk the half mile back to our neighbour’s house. Plus – don’t they say, “Never wake a sleeping baby!” Daisy and Paul slept in the car in our front yard until it was a decent enough hour for him to call a workmen to come tow them out.
Oh, the joys of parenting.