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Monday, March 28, 2011

cock-a-doodle nightmare

We never set our alarm clock in our house.  Not even when we have to get up early.  Our iHome doesn’t know what to make of us.  What kind of people NEVER set their alarm?  Hobos that’s who. 

We are hobos. 

Monday, 6:11 am:  Max enters our room.  “Mom, I had a nightmare” as he crawls into our bed.

Tuesday, 5:54 am:  Max standing over me.  “I had a nightmare, Mom” and then he slips into our bed.

Wednesday, 6:04 am:  Max suddenly in our bed.  “I dreamt I had a nightmare.”

Thursday, 5:48 am:  I roll over to find Max.  “Had a nightmare.”

Friday, crack of crack am:  Max.   Bed.  Me.  “Nightmare.”

Almost daily this morning routine happens.  Unfortunately the only one to blame for my seven-year-old son being a scared little rooster is me. 

I dwell.  If there is any tragedy or disaster or kidnapping or accident on the other side of the freeway, I have to know what is going on.  I’d like to think it’s the journalist in me that has to know the facts -- I aced a Journalism 101 class my first year in college eighty-seven years ago -- but I know it’s more because I can’t help but think, that could’ve been me!  After I think of all the victims and their families and the motherless/fatherless/brotherless/sisterless/grandparentless children left behind of course.  Then, that could’ve been me!  I’m not proud of this.  Seems a little narcissistic if you ask me.  Airplane crashes into the ocean on the way to Paris.  Those poor passengers.  Hey, I went to Paris a year before on almost exactly the very same flight – that could’ve been me!  Toyota can’t brake on the freeway and crashes into retaining wall.  That poor driver.  Hey, I have a Toyota and go on the freeway and sometimes think my brakes act a little wonky – that could’ve been me!   Mother of two kidnapped at grocery store and later found dismembered in her trunk.  That poor woman.  Hey, I’m a mother of two who shops at grocery stores and has a trunk!   I never took Journalism 201 if you’re wondering why those headlines aren’t better.  But you get the picture.  I dwell. 

I am a facebook friend with CNN.

Cut to poor Japan a couple of weeks ago.  Earthquake.  Tsunami.  And then a volcano erupts?!  I felt so terrible for that country – really, really, REALLY terrible – and thought a lot about those poor people on that dinky little island in the ocean.  Those poor people on that dinky little island in the ocean.  Then.  Hey!  I live on a dinky little island in the ocean – that could happen to me!  And, well, it’s true.  Earthquakes happen in New Zealand.  We are surrounded by water on all sides.  And I can see a volcano from the end of my street.  I think, for once, I felt justified in my narcissistic thinking.  It really could happen to me and my family.  I knocked on endless wood.  I updated all three of my earthquake kits which are now known as my earthquake/tsunami/volcano/dear-God-I-hope-I-never-have-to-use-these kits.  And I watched A LOT of news.  Normally I try to shield my children from bad things.  They don’t need to dwell on stuff that doesn’t affect them.  I’ve got that covered.  But with Japan it was different.  Max was raising money for the tragedy at school (by coming to me and asking for a gold coin – NZ $1 or $2 – every other day) and it was important to know why. 

CNN packed a bag and moved into our hobo house.

Monday morning/this morning, some God-awful hour a.m.:  Max crawls into bed with me and it went exactly like this:

Max:  “Mom?” 
Me:    “Yes, honey.”  
Max:  “I had a nightmare.” 
Me:    “Oh no.  What was it about?”
Max:  “I dreamt that a volcano erupted and hot lava knocked over the Corunna Avenue (our street) sign and came down our driveway.  And then I went to China in my flying car to see Donny.”
Me:    “Who’s Donny?”
Max:  “Kid from school who’s from China.”
Me:    “Oh, well, it’s a good thing you had a flying car.”
Max:  “I always have a flying car in my dreams.  Just in case.”

So now I’m looking into getting a flying car.  Just in case.

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