Let’s try something. I want you to inhale quickly like you are gasping. While you are doing that, try to make a sound like you are yelling/yelping. For lack of a better word, I am going to call that a yesp for the rest of this post. Actually, I think I’ll just start using that word and see how quickly it catches on. Who knows, I could be starting the next trend. I can just imagine it now: Someone saying, “Oh, that story made me yesp.” Or how about, “I yesped when I saw the price tag.”
For those of you lucky enough to speak a foreign (to me) language, please let me know if the word I’ve created means that I have solicited a farm animal, prostitute, a member of my family or anyone/anything else that is illegal.
Last night I was in bed but was having trouble falling asleep. I had been lying there for a little while with my eyes closed, just trying to relax and drift off. I felt the edge of the bed sag, but I assumed it was one of the dogs. Yes, they sleep with us. Yes, any and all of them are up for adoption. Especially the one that won’t stop using my carpet for her own personal bathroom.
Anyway, when the dogs move around, it is never just one movement. I mean, they have four legs. They don’t take a step with one leg and then decide they’re through. So when I felt the bed sink down but no other movement, I opened my eyes. I totally and loudly yesped when I saw a figure standing over me. It wasn’t a quick little yesp, either. It was long, drawn-out and loud. The figure was my daughter, who had managed to come into my room without making any noise whatsoever. If she had, I would have heard her because I was still awake.
Once I removed my body from the ceiling and picked my heart and stomach off the floor and put them back in their normal places inside my body, I asked Drama Queen what was wrong. It seems she had a bad dream. At least I think that’ what she said. The roaring in my ears kind of drowned out what she was saying. I comforted her as well as a shaking, heart pounding, stomach-clenched momma could. She went back to bed after I rubbed her back for a minute and kissed her. I felt really bad about not walking her to her bedroom, but I really don’t think my legs could have supported me right then.
That little scare really did wonders for my insomnia. I spent the next 10 minutes willing my heart to beat in its regular rhythm again. I figured sleeping was a lost cause, but I was willing to try again. I snuggled back in my covers with all of my pillows (shut up, Meg), closed my eyes and tried again. And then…then I thought I heard a noise in my room. It was so quiet I wasn’t sure. I opened my eyes and, dang it, if my daughter wasn’t standing there again. Round 2 of yesping.
Do you know what my daughter said to me at that point? “Stop doing that! You’re scaring me!”