The Witching Hour

Thoughts while sitting on the floor outside my 4-year-old’s room, listening to him scream and holding the door shut with my foot.

 

I can’t believe I’m in for another hour and a half of this.

My butt hurts.

My back hurts.

Scratch that, everything hurts.  I’m 6 months pregnant, for crying out loud.  This is not the best time to be sitting in my hallway on the floor for hours.

There has got to be a better (but still fitting) punishment than “timeout until Daddy comes home.”

Maybe the real problem is Daddy doesn’t come home early enough in the day.

It’s adorable that my 2-year-old thinks he needs to hold vigil here with me, chewing graham cracker crumbs all over the place and looking sympathetic.

Bet the teenager wishes he had something to do today after school.  Is it possible he will go stark raving mad before  5 pm, with all this screaming?

This would be a whole lot easier if I put his doorknob on backwards so it locked from the outside.  I’m sure that’s illegal.

This would also be easier if I was sitting with a glass of wine instead of coffee.  Pregnancy strikes again.

I wonder how dinner is going to get made.

I need to go through the baby clothes sometime and size them carefully and discard the super old stained ones.

Forgot to take the Christmas wreath off the kids’ door.  One decoration always gets left behind. Every year.

This toy chest my dad built the kids makes a great coffee table.  Being that it’s out here in the hallway with me.  Because the little boys were using it to climb up and open windows in the dead of winter.  Naturally.

Aaaaaand now my leg is asleep.

Somedaaaaay my prince will cooooome (at 5 pm.)

Now the dog has joined the camp-out.  If only this were actually for fun.

The screaming seems to have stopped.  What a relief.

Laptop has entered dim-to-save-battery mode.  Joy.

Is that the front door opening?  IS IT?!  I can’t leave my vigil to go and see, but dear sweet bejebus, I think it’s over.