Sometime's it's a dog's life.

My eyes snapped open at 3:02 AM, and it took a split second for my brain to register the noise which had invaded my dreams. I lay there in the darkness, trying to sort it all out, when I heard it again. Nothing sinister, just out of place. A dog barking. It was a short trip from "What idiot is letting their dog bark at 3am?" to "Why is my idiot dog outside barking at 3am?!"

Let me explain something about my dog. He doesn't do outside for long periods of time. He goes out, chases the occasional squirrel, performs an infrequent romp, and otherwise curls up under the grand piano in the hope no one sits down to play and interrupt his slothful repose. Who am I kidding? The minute we turn our backs he hits the couch/chair/bed and stakes his furry claim by depositing a half pound of fur.

And he was outside barking at 3am.

In the few seconds it took me to shake the cobwebs out, something amazing happened. Truly amazing. Maybe it was the rare solar flare which recently impacted the atmosphere. Perhaps it created a strange, gravitational happening. Maybe the earth slipped slightly off its axis. Maybe it's the leap-year affect. Whatever the reason, the miracle played out in quite a perfect fashion. Chad. woke. up. I did what any self-respecting wife would do. The dog barked again, and as the master and protector of the family registered the problem, removed the swell, life-saving CPAP mask, and roused himself from the nice, warm bed, I remained completely still. My eyes were open, but let's face it--without his glasses the one I love can't see his hand in front of his face. Through the brief time it took for him to find his robe, and his shoes, and head out of the room, I remained completely and breathlessly still. Mission accomplished, I could go back to sle...

Right. In my dreams (literally). Nope. I heard the doors open and close. I heard the dog being called. Front door, back door, front door, back door. I heard Rusty emit his very particular "I will save you all from the vicious beast I have chased up this tree" alert. I heard Chad come back up the stairs. I heard the dog bark one more time. Still outside. Clearly, this would be a two person rescue. So I dragged myself out of bed and accompanied the big guy back down the stairs. The dog, in the dark of the back yard, whined again. Chad can't hear the whine--as he gets older his hearing goes more and more, too much time spent with loud music and air tools under cars. Apparently, the dog whining and me reciting the weekend honey-do list are both the same frequency--silent. So there we were, me standing in the open window shining the flashlight on the canine crusader who had single-pawedly cornered and delivered us from a deadly ROUS, and the big guy, tromping through the woods in tennis shoes, bathrobe, and pajama pants with the intention of congratulating the furred superhero and returning him to the home for his reward. Rusty, being a humble hero, took off in the other direction, so there was a brief yet spirited dance through the muddy yard while Chad sang his song of encouragement to the dog to get the hell in the house and I added backup vocals and percussion by shaking the jar of dog treats in the hopes of appealing to Rusty's hungry side.

The dog eventually came in, cold, muddy, tired, and not a little put out that the fun was cut short just when things were getting good. Having rendered all furniture off limits by flipping up cushions and blocking chairs, Chad and I returned to bed where we drifted fitfully back into unsatisfying sleep until the alarm rudely went off playing, of all things, LMFAO. How apropos. Rusty refused any attempt to let him out this morning. Hey, it's his bladder.

Meanwhile, much has been learned from the night's adventures. Primarily, having found 3 lights on, both doors unlocked, and the dog abandoned, it is clearly unsafe to go to bed before the children. From now on, the little shits go to bed when I do. If it's still daylight, tough. I am old, I need my sleep, and the dog isn't up to that level of activity. Besides--critters in the woods need their sleep, too.

Motherhood aint for sissies.

I cannot allow my hubby to go to bed knowing my kids are on the road in bad weather with ice and sleet coming down. Maybe that makes me a crazy woman, but until I know they are safe and sound, we are in this stretch of parenting together. So, I sit and type while he snores in the recliner. How can he sleep when he should be worried out of his mind?????

Hindsight is a wonderful thing. Mine is telling me I should have put the stops on the ski trip knowing we could be getting bad weather. Originally the worst was hitting farther north, but of course reliability has never been a strong suit of forecasters. Not only are two of my favorite people in that van, but also three other young men about whom I will worry by proxy since their parents don't necessarily know they have anything to worry about. I'm an equal opportunity maternal worrier.

Few things create quite the feeling of helplessness as knowing all that can be done is wait for their return. I can't go rescue them, can't send the National Guard, can't watch them on the journey. I know prayer is a powerful thing, and I trust God will guide them home and keep them safe, but I can't help the feeling in the pit of my stomach. I could no more be snoring in the recliner than I could fly across the miles and retrieve that precious cargo. I'll be awake with a lump in the pit of y stomach until they walk in the door. I guess it's a mom thing.