Never a fun thing to do, sleeping with Carrie is akin to a rodeo event. She's all over the place; the bed becomes her arena. We start out with her supine, inclined on pillows and vertical in bed. During the night I can feel her little feet plant squarely mid back and that would be my back, and then she pushes as hard as she can. Sometimes she just kicks instead of pushing with those feet. If I'm facing her, which I try to not do, I might catch a foot dead center to my face. Sleeping with Carrie is also dangerous but then so is a rodeo.
It's Saturday morning and I didn't plan on being up this early. I was doing fine. I was asleep and would have probably stayed asleep but for Carrie. Immersed in sleep and from my cocoon sleep induced silence I could faintly hear something. Drifting upward like a deep sea diver returning to surface, the sounds got louder. Carrie is sitting up in bed and coughing. Coughing and hacking and yacking. Between gasps for air she tells me "I'm sick, Nana" and she says this to my back as I go charging for the bathroom and a garbage can.
She's on the sofa, the bed is stripped and all the linens are doing a dance with the washing machine and I'm sitting here in the office in the dark blogging. This might be the last chance I get to get online. While she watches TV, I check my mail, type this note and swallow some hot creamed coffee. I'll be busy today with a sick little one. That's ok. I won't be sleeping with her.