Missed a day, there.
So this is what happened: Mid-morning on Friday, the daycare called us to say that Alex had a fever of 102.6 underarm (translates to 103.5 oral) so we needed to come pick him up. Matt did that, and I called the pediatrician's office, who eventually opined that it might be a delayed reaction to the immunization shots he'd had on Tuesday. (Specifically, the Measles/Mumps/Rubella one, which apparently does this often enough to not raise eyebrows.) They said that if Tylenol didn't bring the fever down, or if he was still running high Saturday morning, to call and make an appointment.
Tylenol did work -- it at least brought it down a couple of degrees out of the "scary-high" range, so we put Alex to bed Friday night and I wrestled with the Mutant Worrybrain for a while before going to bed.
Saturday morning, even though the Tylenol had worn off sometime in the wee hours, Alex's temp was low-grade, and we thought the crisis was pretty much over. We didn't bother to re-up the Tylenol, since fevers do actually have a useful purpose in germ-killing and he didn't seem to be in any pain.
Naturally, then, that evening, after the pediatrician's Saturday hours were done and after Matt had departed for his monthly D&D game, Alex's temp climbed again. I gave him a dose of Tylenol and put him to bed early. When Matt got home at about 1 in the morning, he checked on Alex, discovered that the poor kid was burning up, and woke him up for another dose of Tylenol. As long as he was awake anyway, he did another temp check and he was clocking in at over 104.
(Alex woke up crying again around 2:30 -- we'd been dutifully pushing fluid on him all day to help keep him hydrated, so he'd peed and, as we say around here, exceeded the limits of diaper technology. We got him changed and soothed and back to bed, but that was another sleep interruption for Matt and I. Whee.)
He was still hot Sunday morning, and you're not supposed to give Tylenol more than 4 times in 24 hours. But I remembered the hack they'd used at the hospital after he was born -- alternating Tylenol with ibuprofen to allow more frequent pain relief without overloading the system on either drug. I broke out the Children's Motrin.
We called the Ask-A-Nurse line to see if we needed to take him in to the Urgent Care center; the consensus was that it probably wasn't necessary but that if he was still sick Monday to take him in then.
Penny and I went to the grocery store while Alex was taking a morning nap, and when we got back, Alex was awake and cranky, but his fever had broken. We celebrated.
Prematurely.
The fever came back in the evening, again. We dosed him up and sent him to bed, and Monday, while Matt was taking Penny to her quarterly endocrinologist checkup (she's doing well -- A1C of 7.9, smack in the middle of the goal range for kids under 6) I took Alex to the pediatrician, who took all of about 2 minutes to spot a double ear infection, and another 5 minutes -- just to be on the safe side -- to rule out the flu.
So there we have it. Ear infections, and Alex is on antibiotics now and feeling much better, though he was kind of whiny and clingy this morning, right up until I got him to school, at which point he morphed into the happiest kid ever. (I did give him a shot of Motrin before school, in case the whining was because his ears were bothering him.)
Whew.
Anyway, I'm excited for tonight -- I'm taking Penny to see an acrobatic troupe at William and Mary. I love acrobats, and I think Penny will have a great time, too. She's excited, too, if only because she's going to get to stay up late. I wish Matt could have come with us, but I didn't think we could get a babysitter for Alex who could stay up that late on a school night.
(Penny was, by the way, extremely good while Alex was sick. She was mostly understanding of us having to give him so much extra attention, and not too whiny about being bored, and even made up little songs to sing to him to help him calm down and rest in the evening. Best. Big sister. Ever.)
At any rate, I'm really looking forward to the show tonight!
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
Messy Day
Yesterday was just a mess.
Customer A had discovered that we'd forgotten to send them our source code with a previous delivery, and wanted it. They also want some code that was given to us by a vendor/partner, that doesn't belong to us, so we technically can't release it. There was a lot of back-and-forth about exactly what we were giving them -- all the code? Just the parts that changed? All the code for the parts that changed? All discussion happened via email, because the project manager is on the road this week.
They also wanted us to make some changes to some documents for the build we delivered last month -- some of which don't make sense. (Some of which would then make the software noncompliant and necessitate re-writing parts of it.) So while the managers and the customers are hashing out which of their requested changes we're actually going to keep, the clock is ticking down toward the delivery... We finally got them to agree to wait on the updates until next week, at least.
And there are some documents due soon for the build that we're currently working. Confusingly enough, these are some of the same documents they want re-written for the previous build (e.g., Test Description, Design, etc.) The schedule was getting pretty confused because email traffic sometimes neglected to specify which build they were talking about at any given time.
And then customer B decided they're ready for a software delivery, too, so on top of customer A's nonsense, I had to review documents and software and prepare the delivery for customer B. And that software couldn't be tested at this location, so it had previously been sent up to the customer's test site, which is fine except now I have no way to actually verify that what was tested matches what we're delivering.
To make matters worse, my documentation specialist had a death in the family, so her head was not altogether in the game and we were frantically trying to get things settled enough for her to take today off.
I spent most of the day trying to keep the fires under control. I didn't get breakfast until 10:45, and I didn't get lunch until 3:30.
Here's hoping today is a little calmer. We'll see, I guess.
The weekend should be pretty good. We're hoping to take the kids to visit my folks for a bit, and Matt has his monthly D&D game on Saturday, and other than that, things should be pretty calm and relaxed.
Here's hoping.
Customer A had discovered that we'd forgotten to send them our source code with a previous delivery, and wanted it. They also want some code that was given to us by a vendor/partner, that doesn't belong to us, so we technically can't release it. There was a lot of back-and-forth about exactly what we were giving them -- all the code? Just the parts that changed? All the code for the parts that changed? All discussion happened via email, because the project manager is on the road this week.
They also wanted us to make some changes to some documents for the build we delivered last month -- some of which don't make sense. (Some of which would then make the software noncompliant and necessitate re-writing parts of it.) So while the managers and the customers are hashing out which of their requested changes we're actually going to keep, the clock is ticking down toward the delivery... We finally got them to agree to wait on the updates until next week, at least.
And there are some documents due soon for the build that we're currently working. Confusingly enough, these are some of the same documents they want re-written for the previous build (e.g., Test Description, Design, etc.) The schedule was getting pretty confused because email traffic sometimes neglected to specify which build they were talking about at any given time.
And then customer B decided they're ready for a software delivery, too, so on top of customer A's nonsense, I had to review documents and software and prepare the delivery for customer B. And that software couldn't be tested at this location, so it had previously been sent up to the customer's test site, which is fine except now I have no way to actually verify that what was tested matches what we're delivering.
To make matters worse, my documentation specialist had a death in the family, so her head was not altogether in the game and we were frantically trying to get things settled enough for her to take today off.
I spent most of the day trying to keep the fires under control. I didn't get breakfast until 10:45, and I didn't get lunch until 3:30.
Here's hoping today is a little calmer. We'll see, I guess.
The weekend should be pretty good. We're hoping to take the kids to visit my folks for a bit, and Matt has his monthly D&D game on Saturday, and other than that, things should be pretty calm and relaxed.
Here's hoping.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Mountains and Valleys
I took half the day off yesterday so I could take Alex to his 15-month checkup and then go to the gym without feeling guilty about it.
Alex was awesome. He finally officially outweighs the cat, at 25-ish pounds, and is up to 32 inches tall, which makes him pretty darned tall for his age, though that measurement is suspect, since the nurse marked his head and heels, then straightened a crease in the paper, which could have added as much as an inch. (But even if you subtract that inch, he's still well above average height.)
He was well-behaved for the nurse and the doctor. He wasn't too keen on having his ears looked at or his little testicles prodded, but he didn't fuss up, just tried to squirm a little and gave the doctor a very dubious look.
He screamed for the immunization shots, of course, but stopped as soon as I picked him up afterward, and was fine while I got him dressed. He dozed off in the car and when we got to daycare, wandered off to see what his classmates were doing at the water-table without so much as a backward glance. Yay, independence!
And then last night, Penny had a birthday party to attend, and since it was at a restaurant literally next-door to the daycare, we just went straight there after picking up Alex. He was really good for that, too -- happy and excited to be somewhere new, wandering and exploring but mostly good-tempered about being "redirected" to stay in the party area. I panicked briefly over having forgotten to bring a sippy cup for him -- but then he figured out what to do with a straw! Whoo!
Penny had a great time at the party, though she was frequently overexcited and loud -- but then, so were the other three girls. It's a good thing the restaurant was only sparsely attended. Of course, when the party wound down and it was time to go, she got grouchy about it (pizza, cake, and ice cream smacking into her blood sugar -- I'm almost surprised she was able to walk) and was surly all the way home.
At which point I dumped both the tired Alex and grouchy Penny on Matt and fled to Book Club, where I covered myself in glory by offering up a diatribe about the difference between God and Jesus and why I'm not a Christian anymore (it had to do with the book, really) in front of our new book club member, who is... wait for it... the pastor's wife. Whoo, go me! Well, I've always been the club's token non-Christian, the frog amongst the fish.
I'd post my personal review of the book here, but then I'd have to get into the whole religion thing, and I don't have that kind of energy right now. Or time. Maybe someday, I'll get around to it.
Alex was awesome. He finally officially outweighs the cat, at 25-ish pounds, and is up to 32 inches tall, which makes him pretty darned tall for his age, though that measurement is suspect, since the nurse marked his head and heels, then straightened a crease in the paper, which could have added as much as an inch. (But even if you subtract that inch, he's still well above average height.)
He was well-behaved for the nurse and the doctor. He wasn't too keen on having his ears looked at or his little testicles prodded, but he didn't fuss up, just tried to squirm a little and gave the doctor a very dubious look.
He screamed for the immunization shots, of course, but stopped as soon as I picked him up afterward, and was fine while I got him dressed. He dozed off in the car and when we got to daycare, wandered off to see what his classmates were doing at the water-table without so much as a backward glance. Yay, independence!
And then last night, Penny had a birthday party to attend, and since it was at a restaurant literally next-door to the daycare, we just went straight there after picking up Alex. He was really good for that, too -- happy and excited to be somewhere new, wandering and exploring but mostly good-tempered about being "redirected" to stay in the party area. I panicked briefly over having forgotten to bring a sippy cup for him -- but then he figured out what to do with a straw! Whoo!
Penny had a great time at the party, though she was frequently overexcited and loud -- but then, so were the other three girls. It's a good thing the restaurant was only sparsely attended. Of course, when the party wound down and it was time to go, she got grouchy about it (pizza, cake, and ice cream smacking into her blood sugar -- I'm almost surprised she was able to walk) and was surly all the way home.
At which point I dumped both the tired Alex and grouchy Penny on Matt and fled to Book Club, where I covered myself in glory by offering up a diatribe about the difference between God and Jesus and why I'm not a Christian anymore (it had to do with the book, really) in front of our new book club member, who is... wait for it... the pastor's wife. Whoo, go me! Well, I've always been the club's token non-Christian, the frog amongst the fish.
I'd post my personal review of the book here, but then I'd have to get into the whole religion thing, and I don't have that kind of energy right now. Or time. Maybe someday, I'll get around to it.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
This and That
So the kindergarten classes at Penny's school put on their Patriot Program last night. This year's combined kindergarten class is so huge -- 150 students -- that they couldn't all fit on their stage at the elementary school, so instead they held it in the auditorium of a middle school. (Not the middle school that the kids will one day actually attend, mind, but another middle school half an hour away.)
As these things go, it was pretty standard: they'd never been able to rehearse in the space, so it took them an extra ten minutes to get the kids filed in an arranged on the stage; half the kids were completely unintelligible due to being quiet or shy or still having a lot of baby-talk habits; a couple of kids got stage fright (but only one actually broke down into tears and couldn't say her line -- poor thing); and most of them could either sing the songs or do the hand motions, but not both at the same time (Penny to be included in that particular list); and of course the singing itself was, well, childish.
Penny's line was to lead the audience in the Pledge of Allegiance, so she had her part early on, and she did very well with it, if I do say so myself. Though the microphone was set just a little bit too high for her, so she did it while craning her neck upwards. About ten minutes in, one of the teachers sitting on the floor noticed that the short kids were craning and the tall kids were stooping, and started reaching up to adjust the angle for them.
(Though speaking of short and tall, I noticed that Penny is no longer the second-shortest kid in her class. She's even a smidge taller than one of the other little girls who, at the beginning of the year, was significantly taller than her. She's still on the short side, but I don't have to worry that her growth is stunted or anything.)
Anyway, she did great and Matt and I were really proud of her. (If only Alex had consented to watch the show... He got squirmy and bored before they even started, so Matt watched the whole thing from the back of the auditorium, spending most of it out in the hallway.)
Between the program and the excitement it caused, both kids went to bed late last night. By the time we got them down and I'd taken a quick shower, it was 9.
"I think I'm going to do my wiirkout, start my flickr uploads, and then go to bed," I told Matt.
Twenty-eight minutes into what is usually a 35-minute routine, I wondered why my arms were so achey. Well, I did use the arm-bar while I was on the elliptical at the... gym... today.
Aheh. So I did a Wii Fit workout on top of having gone to the gym. Does that mean I get to skip today's planned wiirkout?
As these things go, it was pretty standard: they'd never been able to rehearse in the space, so it took them an extra ten minutes to get the kids filed in an arranged on the stage; half the kids were completely unintelligible due to being quiet or shy or still having a lot of baby-talk habits; a couple of kids got stage fright (but only one actually broke down into tears and couldn't say her line -- poor thing); and most of them could either sing the songs or do the hand motions, but not both at the same time (Penny to be included in that particular list); and of course the singing itself was, well, childish.
Penny's line was to lead the audience in the Pledge of Allegiance, so she had her part early on, and she did very well with it, if I do say so myself. Though the microphone was set just a little bit too high for her, so she did it while craning her neck upwards. About ten minutes in, one of the teachers sitting on the floor noticed that the short kids were craning and the tall kids were stooping, and started reaching up to adjust the angle for them.
(Though speaking of short and tall, I noticed that Penny is no longer the second-shortest kid in her class. She's even a smidge taller than one of the other little girls who, at the beginning of the year, was significantly taller than her. She's still on the short side, but I don't have to worry that her growth is stunted or anything.)
Anyway, she did great and Matt and I were really proud of her. (If only Alex had consented to watch the show... He got squirmy and bored before they even started, so Matt watched the whole thing from the back of the auditorium, spending most of it out in the hallway.)
Between the program and the excitement it caused, both kids went to bed late last night. By the time we got them down and I'd taken a quick shower, it was 9.
"I think I'm going to do my wiirkout, start my flickr uploads, and then go to bed," I told Matt.
Twenty-eight minutes into what is usually a 35-minute routine, I wondered why my arms were so achey. Well, I did use the arm-bar while I was on the elliptical at the... gym... today.
Aheh. So I did a Wii Fit workout on top of having gone to the gym. Does that mean I get to skip today's planned wiirkout?
Monday, March 23, 2009
Busybusybusy
It was a mostly good weekend, though yesterday was a bit rough, with a killer headache that I couldn't shake loose; Alex falling face-first into Penny's bath while Matt was putting laundry away and I was on the Wii Fit (he's fine, though both kids were briefly traumatized); and then a bit of a mood crash in the evening (so much for my theory that the swings were PMS).
So I'm still feeling kind of low and colorless and blah today, though at least not actively depressed, which I guess is good. I need to pull it together, though, because the next few days are going to be simply insane, and to a lesser extent, the next couple of weeks.
Today is my usual hectic Monday with meetings, etc. -- and I really have to get to the gym at some point, because tonight is Penny's school program. I'll be leaving work a bit early to go home and make some dinner for us to eat on the road, because it's most of a half-hour drive to the school where they're doing the play, and Penny has to be there at 6. (Matt and I already decided that he's on baby duty for the play, because I am the Multimedia Woman. Expect pictures in the near future.)
Tuesday I have an appointment with my OB/GYN so he can "investigate" the abnormal tissue in my cervix. I anticipate that being just oodles of fun.
Wednesday morning is Alex's 15-month checkup. And once again, I have to fit a trip to the gym in during the day, because that evening Penny has a birthday party to go to, after which I have book club, so neither the gym nor even a Wii Fit session are going to be possible.
Thursday and Friday are more or less "normal" (though it should be noted that Fridays, for me, are as lousy with meetings as Mondays). Saturday evening, Matt has his monthly D&D game.
Then next week, Penny has an appointment with her endocrinologist, and I'm taking her to see an acrobat show (a double-treat, as she'll be up way past her bedtime on a school night), and that weekend we're going to get together with the Hickses for Kevin's birthday.
After all of which, juggling Penny's spring break will probably feel positively luxuriously indolent.
So I'm still feeling kind of low and colorless and blah today, though at least not actively depressed, which I guess is good. I need to pull it together, though, because the next few days are going to be simply insane, and to a lesser extent, the next couple of weeks.
Today is my usual hectic Monday with meetings, etc. -- and I really have to get to the gym at some point, because tonight is Penny's school program. I'll be leaving work a bit early to go home and make some dinner for us to eat on the road, because it's most of a half-hour drive to the school where they're doing the play, and Penny has to be there at 6. (Matt and I already decided that he's on baby duty for the play, because I am the Multimedia Woman. Expect pictures in the near future.)
Tuesday I have an appointment with my OB/GYN so he can "investigate" the abnormal tissue in my cervix. I anticipate that being just oodles of fun.
Wednesday morning is Alex's 15-month checkup. And once again, I have to fit a trip to the gym in during the day, because that evening Penny has a birthday party to go to, after which I have book club, so neither the gym nor even a Wii Fit session are going to be possible.
Thursday and Friday are more or less "normal" (though it should be noted that Fridays, for me, are as lousy with meetings as Mondays). Saturday evening, Matt has his monthly D&D game.
Then next week, Penny has an appointment with her endocrinologist, and I'm taking her to see an acrobat show (a double-treat, as she'll be up way past her bedtime on a school night), and that weekend we're going to get together with the Hickses for Kevin's birthday.
After all of which, juggling Penny's spring break will probably feel positively luxuriously indolent.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Intellectual Growth
One: "Alex, where's your mouth? Your mouth? ...Yes! Very good! Where's your nose? ...Great! Where's your eyes? ...Yes! Where's your ear? ...Very good! Where's your head? Yes! Where's your tummy? ...Good job! Where's your arms? ...Reaching high! That's my smart boy! Where's your legs? ...No, that's your chest. Legs? ...Well, okay, maybe not. How about feet? Yes!"
I had no idea he knew that many body parts.
Two: Alex found a paper towel lying around, and started amusing himself by tearing pieces off and handing them to me. He was holding it in his left hand and tearing/handing with his right, and I was indulgently collecting bits of paper towel and giggling along with him, though I admit I was more taking delight in his good humor than really grasping the hilarity of the activity.
About halfway through the paper towel, he suddenly ripped off a piece that was bigger than what remained in his left hand. He started to reflexively hand me the large piece, stopped, looked down at the two pieces, then carefully and deliberately handed me the smaller one.
So apparently he also grasps the concepts (if not the words) of "bigger" and "smaller" -- and moreover, is capable of making value judgments about which is better.
Three: Bored with the paper towel ripping, Alex looked over at me and discovered, apparently, hey! I had a whole handful of paper towel bits! I uncrumpled one and offered it to him, and he took it with the greatest delight.
"Alex. Put it in the trash?" I pointed at the living room trash can. "Put the paper in the trash?"
He didn't hesitate. He turned around, tottered straight over to the can, and dropped the paper in. Then he came back for another bit of paper towel. I gave it to him. "Put it in the trash, Alex." He did so, and came back again. I gave him another piece of paper towel, and this time he didn't even wait for me to ask, but took it straight to the trash.
So he can comprehend simple instructions and even extrapolate them into similar circumstances.
Alex is more clever than I've been giving him credit for. Cool!
I had no idea he knew that many body parts.
Two: Alex found a paper towel lying around, and started amusing himself by tearing pieces off and handing them to me. He was holding it in his left hand and tearing/handing with his right, and I was indulgently collecting bits of paper towel and giggling along with him, though I admit I was more taking delight in his good humor than really grasping the hilarity of the activity.
About halfway through the paper towel, he suddenly ripped off a piece that was bigger than what remained in his left hand. He started to reflexively hand me the large piece, stopped, looked down at the two pieces, then carefully and deliberately handed me the smaller one.
So apparently he also grasps the concepts (if not the words) of "bigger" and "smaller" -- and moreover, is capable of making value judgments about which is better.
Three: Bored with the paper towel ripping, Alex looked over at me and discovered, apparently, hey! I had a whole handful of paper towel bits! I uncrumpled one and offered it to him, and he took it with the greatest delight.
"Alex. Put it in the trash?" I pointed at the living room trash can. "Put the paper in the trash?"
He didn't hesitate. He turned around, tottered straight over to the can, and dropped the paper in. Then he came back for another bit of paper towel. I gave it to him. "Put it in the trash, Alex." He did so, and came back again. I gave him another piece of paper towel, and this time he didn't even wait for me to ask, but took it straight to the trash.
So he can comprehend simple instructions and even extrapolate them into similar circumstances.
Alex is more clever than I've been giving him credit for. Cool!
Friday, March 20, 2009
Somnambulist
The other night, Matt and I were sitting around trying to relax, and Matt heard someone walking around upstairs. He went up to check, and found Penny in our room. She'd turned the light on, and was on the bed taking her pyjama bottoms off as if she was getting ready for her bedtime shot.
"What are you doing?" Matt asked.
Penny glared at him.
"Why are your pants off?"
She glared again.
"Come on, put your pants back on and get to bed," he said.
"They're not!" she hissed.
"Yes, they are," Matt said. He made her pull her pants back on. Blood sugar lows (and excessive highs) can make her growly and slightly irrational, so he did a check: 140, perfectly within limits. Just a normal bad mood, for no apparent reason. "Time to go back to bed. Do you want to walk, or do you want me to carry you?"
She glared at him again. "You," she snapped sullenly.
He picked her up, and while he walked to her room, she commenced digging her chin painfully into his shoulder and collarbone. He dropped her on her bed. "Go to sleep," he commanded.
Fifteen minutes later, we heard movement again. Matt went upstairs to check on her. She was in the bathroom, going potty. "Hi, Daddy!" she chirped, sleepily cheerful and sweet.
"You feeling okay, punkin?" She nodded. "Don't forget to flush and turn the light out, okay?"
"Okay!" Not so much as a rolled eye for the reminder.
Back downstairs, we pondered her turnaround, until Matt said, "I wonder if she was sleepwalking."
My mother sleepwalks occasionally. She'll get out of bed, wander around the house, get a drink of water, and usually wake up when she goes through the living room and sees the clock on the DVD player. One morning, she woke up at o-dark-thirty sitting out on the porch and working on the crossword puzzle she hadn't finished the previous day.
My brother used to rock back and forth in his sleep. When he was a kid, he literally shook three beds to pieces. That habit followed him to college, and he didn't stop until he moved in with a girlfriend who would elbow him whenever he started it up.
I talk in my sleep, or at least I used to. When I was in middle school, I freaked out Jennie B. during a sleepover by talking about the house being on fire; and in college I annoyed the hell out of KT by waking her up at 5:30 or 6 with a long discussion about whether I was going to go to my morning class and whether I should break up with my boyfriend. In both cases, when they asked me about it in the morning, I had no idea what they were talking about. (Matt says he hasn't noticed me doing it, though occasionally it will happen that he'll refer to a conversation we've had that I have no memory of at all, and it will occur to me if I was asleep.)
And Matt says his brother used to sleepwalk (sleepwalked? sleptwalked?) when he was a little kid, too.
So there's some precedence for Penny being a sleepwalker.
Awesome.
"What are you doing?" Matt asked.
Penny glared at him.
"Why are your pants off?"
She glared again.
"Come on, put your pants back on and get to bed," he said.
"They're not!" she hissed.
"Yes, they are," Matt said. He made her pull her pants back on. Blood sugar lows (and excessive highs) can make her growly and slightly irrational, so he did a check: 140, perfectly within limits. Just a normal bad mood, for no apparent reason. "Time to go back to bed. Do you want to walk, or do you want me to carry you?"
She glared at him again. "You," she snapped sullenly.
He picked her up, and while he walked to her room, she commenced digging her chin painfully into his shoulder and collarbone. He dropped her on her bed. "Go to sleep," he commanded.
Fifteen minutes later, we heard movement again. Matt went upstairs to check on her. She was in the bathroom, going potty. "Hi, Daddy!" she chirped, sleepily cheerful and sweet.
"You feeling okay, punkin?" She nodded. "Don't forget to flush and turn the light out, okay?"
"Okay!" Not so much as a rolled eye for the reminder.
Back downstairs, we pondered her turnaround, until Matt said, "I wonder if she was sleepwalking."
My mother sleepwalks occasionally. She'll get out of bed, wander around the house, get a drink of water, and usually wake up when she goes through the living room and sees the clock on the DVD player. One morning, she woke up at o-dark-thirty sitting out on the porch and working on the crossword puzzle she hadn't finished the previous day.
My brother used to rock back and forth in his sleep. When he was a kid, he literally shook three beds to pieces. That habit followed him to college, and he didn't stop until he moved in with a girlfriend who would elbow him whenever he started it up.
I talk in my sleep, or at least I used to. When I was in middle school, I freaked out Jennie B. during a sleepover by talking about the house being on fire; and in college I annoyed the hell out of KT by waking her up at 5:30 or 6 with a long discussion about whether I was going to go to my morning class and whether I should break up with my boyfriend. In both cases, when they asked me about it in the morning, I had no idea what they were talking about. (Matt says he hasn't noticed me doing it, though occasionally it will happen that he'll refer to a conversation we've had that I have no memory of at all, and it will occur to me if I was asleep.)
And Matt says his brother used to sleepwalk (sleepwalked? sleptwalked?) when he was a little kid, too.
So there's some precedence for Penny being a sleepwalker.
Awesome.
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