pager woes

I know, who even uses a pager anymore? Well, I'll tell you who: my husband.

When we first met, I thought it was a little dorky that he wore a pager everywhere. I mean, it's 2013 -- you have a cell phone. When I finally asked him about it, he explained that the pager is intended to protect the poor nurses who have to wake him up in the middle of the night or interrupt dinner with friends or take him away from his patients in the clinic. That one minute between him getting the page and calling the nurses back give him the few seconds he needs to shift his mind into gear. It also helps him wake up a little when the page comes in the middle of the night. Fair enough.

But when we first got married, that pager quickly turned into my nemesis. It beeped at dinner, during precious sleep hours, at the movies. I started having a pavlovian-like response to it--Dave immediately got my pit-of-despair, our-evening-is-over disappointed eyes. However, it only took me a couple of months to realize that pages turn into our income. So I stopped being resentful. But I haven't stopped being tired. I'm blogging right now in an effort to stay awake at 4 p.m., but I want more than anything to just lie down for a few minutes, and I would except I'm taking dinner to a friend in the ward in an hour and it's not going to cook itself...

As a side note, to all my pregnant friends out there, 3:30 a.m. is not a nice time to have a baby. I'm just sayin'.

I was so tired at the oil change place today that I left the chicken I had just purchased at Costco on the chair beside me. Just walked right out. Right past the chicken. I was all the way home before I realized my mistake. The mechanic had a good laugh at me when I walked back in to reclaim tomorrow's dinner.

By now, you might be thinking I'm a big sissy. Why can't I just fall back asleep? After all, I'm not the one who has to go deliver the baby. If it was just the page, it wouldn't be so bad. But the call necessitates the light geting turned on so Dave can get dressed. Then the dog realizes he's going somewhere, so she jumps out of her bed and starts running around like crazy, flapping her ears and jingling her collar, hoping Dave will take her with him. Dave winds her up a little (he can't help it), then kisses me goodbye. THEN I lay there and stare at the ceiling for a while until I can fall back asleep, which is usually only about 30 minutes before he comes home. Today he didn't get home until 5:30 a.m. Blah.

Needless to say, we were both dragging a little this morning.

This only reaffirms my fear that Dave and I might be too old to be trying to embark on this whole parenting thing. Dave's medical training taught him how to fall asleep in an instant. I only have that talent at 10 p.m.; after that, all bets are off.

So, this is the tradeoff, people. We got to get married more mature and developed, but those midnight feedings, whenever they finally come, are not going to be kind to these mature and developed bodies.