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Single Mom Slice of Life:
A Story Of Contacts, Alarms And The 911 Operator

 

How much crazy can one person do all by herself? If that person is me… the answer is… quite a bit.

I know it’s a bad thing to do, but I sleep in my contacts. I am blind as a bat – cannot see anything past the end of my nose, and I hate being blind. So when I had cried earlier that day (I was missing the boys, it was a short-lived moment) it had coated my contacts in protein, which makes it very hard to see.

I had popped my contacts out just as two things happened: 1. My cell phone started ringing in the living room and 2. I realized that I had left my glasses in the car.

What does this mean? Well, it means that in order not to hurt myself or trip over a dog, I just took the cell phone and had the phone conversation from my bed. That way, I’m not a danger to myself, my house, or my pets. However, that also means that I ended up sleeping with my cell phone.

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The next morning, some alarm was sounding off in my room. Normally, I sleep with a tablet in my bed so that I can fall asleep to TV and then have it go into hibernation mode. (Hi, my name is Wendy, I’m afraid of the dark. Nice to meet you.) The alarm also serves as a back-up in very rare chance that I oversleep.

So when the alarm started sounding, I (blind as a bat, remember) start slapping at the sound. It went quiet for a bit, and I rolled over, as any sleep-loving mother of two would do. A few minutes later, the offensive sound begins again, and again, I blindly began swatting at the sound, and again, it stopped.

Then… my phone starts ringing. Surely, no one, not even my east coast family, is crazy enough to try and call me at 5:30 in the morning. Not on a Friday morning. Not when I have no kids and a flexible work schedule.

How fast do you wake up? Wait, let me rephrase – how fast do you wake up when the first thing you hear is, “Ma’am what is your emergency?”

Um, what?

It turns out, that blindly swatting at sound is a bad thing. Not only am I sure that I looked like a fool, I also had managed to swat the emergency button on my cell phone.

Twice.

I assured the nice lady that I was fine. I apologized for calling and swore I had not meant to call her. I promised that I was not under duress, and no, I was not being forced to answer her in any particular way, and that yes, I was able to speak freely. (They really do ask you that…) And I meant every single word of it.

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Not a mere heartbeat after I promised the nice lady I was fine, I started screaming, “Ouch!  Stop doing that! It f*ing hurts!”

You see, the sound of my voice at 5:30 in the morning is apparently an alarm in and of itself to the dogs. Apparently, it doesn’t matter if I’m talking to them, myself, or the 9-1-1 operator… as long as I’m talking out loud, that signals to them (and the 100 pound lab/chow/shepherd mix in particular) that it is time to get up, it is time to get excited, it is time to play… it is time to jump up on the bed, on top of mom with claws I now realize need to be trimmed, and start the day.

So you see – it may not be the kids that drive us crazy. Sadly, kids, no kids… I’m still a hot mess.

What about you? Have there been times you just WISHED you could blame something on your kids, but realize that sadly, they can’t be blamed at all? That day, and that phone call… tops my list.