December 4, 2015
I don’t care how bad I need to pee in the middle of the night, I have serious conversations with myself whether or not to get out of bed. I equate it to waving the white flag, or white sheets in this case. “I surrender my spot in the bed.”
I am not sure when the “enemy troops” invaded last night, however this has been an ongoing battle for nearly 6 months. Each night, Dan and I reclaim our territory by pushing the enemy troops back to their rightful space. We are filled with high hopes of permanently claiming stake to our ground, but somehow, somewhere, in the middle of the night, there is a surprise attack. Sometimes we are more prepared than others – when it is still fairly early and we have not assumed the horizontal position – we can hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet approaching. However, these attackers are strategic. They never approach together and the timing is inconsistent. Many nights they have claimed the territory without us being aware, only to awake and find, once again, we have unknowingly surrendered (although, we are generally OK with this scenario since we are well-rested come in the am).
Unfortunately, last night, I couldn’t hold it. I knew I had to pee. I realized that my ally force (aka, Dan) had exercised his right to overtake the enemy territory, meaning he went to our daughter’s very comfy queen-size bed. This occasionally happens – if we are getting overtaken by all enemy troops, who have not set a defense for their space, one of us must attempt to overtake their space. (Yes, we have on occasion committed to a double attack; one of us in his small, twin and the luckier of us in that wonderful queen).
I did an Army roll, got out of bed, stumbled to the latrine and peed. It had to be done. And, yes, I spent from 0-400 till 0-530, with a hand in my face, a leg in my stomach and the sounds of snoring coming from a country one room away.