So Mir and her daughter, Chickadee were here this weekend - I mean, I call it a "weekend" but they arrived on Wednesday, and went home on Sunday. So. A SINCERE weekend.
However, I'm not going to tell you all about the weekend, because it just sounds so lame to try to get across something like that. You end up repeating lines, like trying to convey all of a play by acting out the best bits - "And then she said, 'Hey Kira? You're faaaaaaaaat!'" And it just doesn't work.
I will tell you that this is the first time our kids have met, and they had a freakishly great time together. At times it was best for us to just quietly back away and let what was happening just happen.
But no, I'm not going to tell you about Mir visiting. No, what I'll tell you about instead is Sophia. Today she spent (rough estimate) seventeen billion hours running around outside. At one point I was gone (I spent seventeen billion hours in the car today), and Tre wanted her to come inside and have some lunch. Sophia, being her father's daughter, suffers from Low Blood Sugar Cranky Butt syndrome, and must be fed when it is time, or suffer the consequences.
So anyhow, there Tre was, trying to shoo the grubby-faced little girl into the house.
"Sophia. Time to come inside," he repeated. She spun in a balletic circle on the grass and shook her head.
"But I CAN'T," she called back, "I am not the queen of the INSIDE, I'm the queen of the OUTSIDE!"
Now, there is not a thing wrong with being the queen of the outside. I'm alllll for children running around in the sunshine. But this particular queen also seems to have seasonal allergies, and a full day of romping about in the grass makes for one snotty, itchy little girl. This is also a girl who does not naturally sleep well AND is currently being besieged by moths.
Yeah, moths. It's miller moth season, and there really aren't words to describe HOW MANY moths there are right now. The other night she woke up to find a couple dozen of the fluttery little bastards, circling the ceiling in the pool of light from her music box. It creeped her out (sort of creeped me out, to be honest), and she hasn't spent a full night in her bed since.
Anyhow, it occurred to me that the itching/sneezing and the not sleeping issues could be dealt with simultaneously, with a single stone called benedryl. Did that last sentence make any sense? I don't think it did. Anyhow, pushing on.
So tonight I figured a teeny shot of the lovely elixir would usher her happily off to dream world, but as I was pouring it out, I remembered something dimly about Tre, as an allergy-riddled four-year-old, and how he'd reacted? Badly? To benedryl? Did that happen? Ah well, down the hatch, wee itchy one!
It soon became clear that Sophia was not going to respond to benadryl with your standard dopey sleepiness. Within just a few minutes, she was writhing on the couch next to me, unable to sit still.
What followed next was hours of sitting outside her room, trying to help her go to sleep, while she flipped from stem to stern, trying to find a better position, drew pictures on the wall with her feet, whispered to her stuffed bunny about how mean her mommy is, and asked me vital questions like, "What is the name of that dinosaur that flies?" And during this whole time, moths were gathering on the ceiling and walls, amassing for their midnight freak-out attacks.
Just when I was resigning myself to a long and bitter night, Clay came upstairs to relieve me. I toddled off to my room to brush my teeth. Within ten minutes, Sophia had finally succumbed to sleep, and Clay grabbed a flyswatter and decimated the upstairs moth population. And just like that, my night turned around.
Because sometimes, when life seems like it might be a little bit tougher than you are, something comes in from outside to set things right and renew your spirit. And even though it can't last, it's worth it, just for the full breath of air.
And look at that. I ended up writing about Mir's visit after all.