Oh, Just A Typical Morning...

Does anybody else drool in their sleep? Anybody? Because I do. I don't remember doing that when I was a kid, or really even as a teenager. But as an adult? Oh yeah. It's gross. Like a St. Bernard I am. It's a wonder I don't wake up dehydrated. That's how I awoke this fine morning. At least it's not every morning.

Then after I wiped the spittle trail from my cheek, I turned to see Ryan in the room. He'd just come in to tell me that "Amy can't open her eyes!" Well, that sounded interesting. I headed downstairs to find Amy, lying supine on the futon, forearm across her eyes. She could open the right eye, but the left eye looked a little swollen. She could hold it open, but couldn't just open those blond-lashed lids; it hurt too much.

Between Adrienne and I, we used a cell phone flashlight (sure does come in handy!) to peer into those baby blues. Amy held her eye open. I held the light. Adrienne looked to see if she could see anything that could be the cause of the distress. Light hurt Amy's eyes but it was kinda funny. You see, she has these amazing blue eyes and usually her pupils are larger, more noticeable. Shine a light in and wow, do those pupils constrict. She could be the model for science class the day the eyeball is discussed. But, back to the I-am-in-pain-something-is-in-there-I-think moment.

Adrienne thought she spied a hair on the surface of the orb. Amy did not want her touching her eyeball. I couldn't see a thing. Really, I couldn't because I'd left my glasses upstairs. So, getting a Q-tip we thought the hair-thing could be snagged. Amy said to make it wet first. Adrienne suggested that Amy put it in her mouth to moisten it. Amy and I looked at Adrienne with a "that is a weird and odd suggestion" and suggested that tap water would be just fine. Once she came back with the wet Q-tip, poised it ready over the eye, and Amy opened her eye, rolling it around so beautifully, we couldn't find whatever it was we'd seen before.

Amy decided to go look for herself in the mirror but then realized she didn't have her contacts in and it was pointless. Then she suggested that I look in the bathroom trash can for the tiny, clear, nearly invisible lenses. In case one of them had torn in her eye. I tried. I really did, but there is just some things a mother can't do. Sifting through the bathroom trash is one of them. I'd had enough to do with spit already.

But then, she suddenly realized that her eye was open of it's own accord. She was back in business. I looked out the bathroom window whilst she got in the shower. Then I turned and looked into the sink. From one side to the other was leftover toothpaste foam and spit.
Amy: "Oh Adrienne always does that."
Me: "Seriously, she can't rinse it down?"
(On a side-note, when this girl brushes her teeth, she means business. She looks like she has rabies with all the foam she produces. She could be the tooth brushing demonstrator at the dentist. )
Amy: "I take water and lick it down."
Me: "What?! You lick it down?!"
Amy: "FLICK! I flick it down, with water."
Much laughter ensues.

But where was Heather in all this drama? I went to her room and knocked. She was just sitting up, no spittle noticed anywhere in evidence, her eyes open, no foaming at the mouth. Was she the only normal female in this house? Then when I told her it was getting late, she just shrugged, "It's Saturday." Umm, sorry but it's Friday. She stepped it into high gear really fast. So maybe she does not know what day it is, but compared to the rest of us, still pretty normal I'd say.

And that is how a morning goes some days in this household. May you all feel either "more normal" after reading this or at the very least that you are not alone in the everyday things of life.

Have a Good Day!
Dianne