The Widows' Walk

I was just reading over the Spousal Unit's latest entry, and I started thinking about one Bucs game in particular he attended.

It was 2002.  Bucs vs. Steelers.  December twenty-third, which was coincidentally five days after our second son was born.  My Dad came over to our house on Friday the 20th to view the newest addition (born on the 18th) and then asked my husband, "So, do you want to go to the Bucs game this next Monday night?"  Trav gave me this very cute, "Oh-honey-I-know-I-shouldn't-ask-since-you-just-got-through-pushing-a-person-out of-your-body-and-you-aren't sleeping-more-than-ninety-minutes-at-a-stretch-but-may-I?--PLEASE???????" look.

The fact that I was in a high state of postpartum euphoria is the only thing on which I can blame my "Sure, honey!" answer.  Well, that, and the fact that my mother said she'd stay with me until late that evening.

By the way, Mom's idea of late?  Is 10:30.  Just so you know.  I'd have remembered that myself, if I hadn't been so freakin' SLEEP DEPRIVED already.

So Saturday passed.  Sunday passed.  Each day had Trav becoming more and more excited about the game.  Finally, thank the Heavens, Monday morning arrived, shortly followed by Monday night.  Hallelujah!  The boys were off to the game, and Mom and I bonded over the short ones. 

Until 10:30.

Then I was left alone with a nearly-four-year-old who was blessedly asleep, and a five-day-old who apparently hadn't yet learned the meaning of that blessed state, despite intensive coaching on my part during all three trimesters of his gestation.  Finally, at about 1:30 a.m., he crashed.  I settled down in the bed next to his bassinet to do the same. 

That's about the time the thuds began.  The thuds which ended up being the sound of Himself taking the large Bucs magnets off the garage door and flinging them into the bushes.

In case anyone missed it?  The Bucs lost that game.

So instead of sleeping, I spent the next two hours listening to Trav describe just how many ways that game went wrong, how many calls the refs muffed, and just how badly the Bucs played in "X" spot of the game. 

For two whole hours. 

During which I could have slept.  And immediately after which, when I got into bed to sleep, the youngest offspring awoke.

And to think I used to consider writing Tony Dungy about how he was messing up my sex life.  I should have written Jon Gruden about how he fouled up my sleep, post-newborn.  I guarantee you that would have been the more vitriolic letter.

|  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this