The Lad has a thing about 2 a.m. I think it's going to be his witching hour. Almost every night for the last two weeks I've been awake around 2 a.m., sometimes out of a dead sleep, and staring at the clock. Then, sometime between 2:30 and 3 a.m., when I've given up all hope of sleep and have resigned myself to lying awake in the dark, my eyes close and the next thing I know, it's morning and The Boy is padding across the house to say, "Hi Momma!"
Usually I go through this process alone. Not so last night.
Just before 2 a.m., I woke up to the smell of our cat box. The cat box does not usually smell, I swear, but last night, it reeked. I lay in bed and tried not to notice. Maybe it was just super pregnancy senses. The husband rolled over.
"Why does the cat box smell so bad?"
"I don't know," I said. "I think maybe the cleaning ladies did something to it. It smells like an old lady's cat box."
We both tossed and turned for several minutes. Finally, the husband mumbled something and got out of bed. I heard him eating an apple in the kitchen. I tried to sleep. The Lad was tossing and turning, too. I heard the husband get the cat box. My stomach started to growl. I tried to ignore it. I started feeling sick. I sighed heavily and rolled myself out of bed.
As the husband cleaned the litter box, I ate a bowl of Cheerios. All the noise must have disturbed The Boy because there was a thud and then, "I fall. I fall out bed on carpet." Out he came, carrying his blanky.
So there we were, the whole family -- including the damn cat, who was mewling for good food -- at 2:30 a.m. I have a feeling we'll be repeating this scenario often in the coming weeks, only with a crying baby involved.