I wake up, hearing the roar of the air conditioner, and feeling Vampbaby sleeping against my back. I don't open my eyes - even the most subtle movement will send the dog bounding onto my stomach, eagerly awaiting early morning human contact and breakfast. Instead, I keep still and contemplate the day's routine. The moment Vampbaby awakens, he will seek the dog with and excited "Etch, etch!", then turn his attention to getting out of bed by crawling over any obstacle in his way (usually me). Then it's a mad dash to the stairs, with wailing to commence at the security gate. The knashing of teeth and pulling of hair ends when I drag myself out of bed, pick him up, and head downstairs.
Vampbaby is plopped in the highchair, and Vampdoggy is fed his morning doggy bits. A quick bowl of Cheerios and soy milk later and Vampbaby is eating his own breakfast (all the while completing the dog's meal with some of his own). Then it's back up stairs to dress and prepare for the day.
What day is it now? If it's a work day, then Vampbaby will race off to school for another day of fun with friends -- perhaps swimming in the kiddie pool, perhaps eating pizza, but most certainly making a mess and wearing himself out. Vampmommy and Vampdaddy will dawn their fashionable outfits and head off for fabulous days at their fantastic jobs. If it's the weekend, then we're off to the errands of the day -- groceries, a trip to the mall, visits with family, the occasional trip to the town playground, and perhaps a nap in the car.
I open my eyes to greet the day.
It's night. The room is illuminated not by the usual blue nightlight, but instead by the machine that is pumping a vast array of drugs into my son's system, that earlier gave him a transfusion of blood. That sound is not the air conditioner; instead, it is the cooler unit that chills the blanket Vampbaby is sleeping on, as a way to combat his 102 degree fever. The nurse slips quietly in, adds a new medication to the machine, and slips quietly out into the bright hallway of the hospital.
I remember, yet I still want so badly to forget.