What NOT to do at 2:14 A.M.

I am not a late night person. Sure, on occasion I can stay up late but on a weeknight, I am normally in the bed by 11. Last night I think I crawled in to bed at 11:20 and fell right to sleep.

Sometime later, Frank comes to bed and starts talking to me. "Stace? Stacey?" So I'm like "WHAT??" I mean, clearly there must be some kind of an emergency for him to be waking me up. "What time did Nick say he was going to be home?"

Let me just sidebar here for a moment. The boy is now 18 and has a license. He is done with school. I was never big on curfews because he never went anywhere. Lately, he's been staying out late - and late normally meant around 11:30. A couple of times he's come in after midnight. We're going to have to talk about the definition of "late" later on today.

I told him that Nick had merely stated that he would be home late. So he's like "Well, it's after 2 and I'm kind of tired and I don't know where he is." I rolled over, glad that it was dark in there because the glare I was shooting at him could quite possibly have killed him. "Did you CALL him?" I asked. "No." Now I'm fully awake. "And so you thought it would be better to wake me up at two in the morning rather than call Nick and see exactly where the hell he is. Is that what you're saying?"

Well, he DID finally call him after I threatened to smother him with a pillow and then got up to get myself a drink because it was 2:14 in the damn morning and now I was worried about where the hell Nick was!

There is SO going to be a discussion on curfews in my house today...