(pre-note): after that last blog entry, the crap hit the fan. Apparently he still blog stalks me. And I thought I was creepy for FB stalking every few weeks.
Ok, so on to me being domestic. I made jam. Lots of jam. Like, 65-ish cups of jam. It was freezer jam, and although I did it over a period of two days because I had two shipments of fruit, it could have been done in a day because it was very simple. 40 cups were made one night between 8 p.m. and 1 a.m. with my friend Niki and it was freaking hilarious. Our boys slept in the living room and Adam had a sleep walking episode. Here goes, I know I'm going to have to delete this entry and most likely put him in therapy if he ever finds out I posted this but I'm just a bad enough mother that I'm cool with that.
Around midnight he woke up. My home is a tri-level with a split stairway between the front room and living room, one set of stairs leading upstairs to two bedrooms (one of them massively huge), a bathroom and a hall closet, and the other set downstairs to another bedroom, a bathroom/laundry room and the family room. The boys room is upstairs.
Back to sleepwalking. Adam woke up and headed toward the kitchen rubbing his eyes. I asked him if he was ok, he said he's finished. Finished with what, I asked. Finished thinking. Then he walked headfirst into the wall between the two staircases. I started laughing, he looked up at me like I was crazy and headed upstairs. Niki asked what he was doing, and I said don't worry, he's asleep. She pointed out that his eyes are still open. Don't worry Nik, he's still asleep. So we continued smashing raspberries.
I started to wonder what he was doing when I didn't hear the bathroom door close. When Jarom and Dominick aren't around he generally wouldn't volunteer to sleep in his bedroom alone given the opportunity to crash in the living room with Niki's son, Cadon. So I headed upstairs and at the top, I knew he was in the bathroom because I could hear him peeing. And the door was open. Not really cool. So I reached in to shut the door, but there was no one there. Weird? My first thought is our wonderful dog, who never ever does anything wrong (except chase cars and bark and stab me with his ridiculously long nails at night) is peeing in my house! In my disgusting boys room! I hurry in there and no, it's not the dog peeing in the corner, but my eight year old son. Super not cool.
Now, I don't know how many people deal with sleepwalkers, but I have learned not to startle them or they freak. So I put my hand on his back and said quietly... son, you're peeing in your room. He turned away and finished peeing as I'm telling him, you're pottying in your room... you're peeing on your closet door... eventually he turns around, does up his fly, stares at me... and laughs. And I started to laugh. I asked him if he'd been sleeping, he said yes, crawled into bed and fell asleep. So I went downstairs, knowing I was going to have to scrub carpets in the morning, and smiled because I knew I'd have a great story to tell him.
When I told him, he laughed and laughed until I was finished with the story and asked.... How old was I? Uh, dude, it was last night. His eyes about popped out of his head. How emabarrassing he says and starts laughing harder!!!
It's a great blackmail story and other than the pee on the carpet, I think I'd be willing to make jam every week if I got entertained like that!
Next blog entry... The horrors of canning salsa. I'm a bit too traumatized for that post just yet.
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