Observations from the Middle of the Night

I was awakened from a sound sleep by the frantic calling of my name.  I vaguely registered the presence of Large Fry snoring and pressed up against me, as Medium's voice got more urgent.

"Mommy!  Mommy!  I peed in my bed.  My panties are wet.  My sheets are wet.  My duckie is wet."

I got out of bed and yanked on my pajama pants--sleeping next to Hubby is akin to sleeping next to a pot-bellied stove most nights--and realized that drinking as much Snapple as I did last night means I need a pit stop myself before I assess the damages.

Medium stood and shivered next to me, and so I had her strip off her fleece nightgown (which hardly felt damp) and her panties (which were, well, soaked).  Then I chased her down the hall to wash her off before she put on new panties and jammies.

All I could think of was how glad I was that I'd put on the vinyl mattress protectors after I'd last washed the twins' bedding.  The sheets and mattress pad (and Duckie, obviously) would need to be tossed into the washer, but the mattress would be dry.

It was Medium's first accident in months.  Her sheets weren't that wet, but Duckie was nearly dripping (ew) and the mattress pad was more than a little damp.  Well, if she's going to have an accident, make it memorable, I suppose.

I went and got Hubby, who was still up and watching a movie, and had him help me strip Medium's bed and remake it.

As I tossed the nightgown, panties, sheets, mattress pad and Duckie in the washer, I reflected on several odd things:

• Either she drank more than I did last night, or Medium forgot to go potty before bed.
• I did not want to think about where she had been holding Duckie for him to be that wet.
• Fleece does not absorb liquids like cotton does.
• Mattress pads absorb better than microfiber sheets.
• I need more sets of twin-sized sheets.
• At least I wasn't doing a load of laundry at oh-dark-thirty because someone had gotten sick.
• I am never drinking that much Snapple again at dinner and after.  I required another pit stop before going back to bed myself.

In an amusing post-script, I woke up again briefly when Hubby finally came to bed and carried Large Fry back to her bed.

Not sure when that was.

It didn't last long, however; I found Large Fry nestled between us, on top of the covers, when Hubby got up this morning to get ready for church.

Clearly, taking her back to her own bed was ineffective.