We’re Lacking In The Sleeping

Let me tell y’all about last night.

In case you’ve forgotten, Hubs fought a Mylar balloon that had a slow helium leak at 12:45, night-before-last.  It was a ferocious battle in the darkest part of the night, and Hubs won.  (Yes… the balloon was leaking gas, and it was struggling to remain afloat.  Hubs opened his eyes in the middle of the night to see that creature hovering three feet off the floor, right smack beside him, and then it had the audacity to brush against his face half of a second later.  Hubs was out of bed like someone had shoved a hot cattle prod into his thigh.  The balloon is dead now, and its nearest relatives have been contacted.)  I woke up in a sheer panic, because FIGHT!!  FIGHT!!  FIGHT!!  MUHAMMAD ALI IS TAKING ON A HELIUM BALLOON!!  I was hopped up on adrenaline surges like a sky-diving junkie, and that was all she wrote for me.

As in, there was no chance that I was going BACK to sleep, even after Hubs and his windmill-swinging arms were quiet, and the balloon was deceased, and all the flying like a butterfly and stinking like a bee was in the past.  I was awake from 12:45 until pretty much 4:00 in the morning, because YES!  MY NAME IS MAMA, AND I HAVE SLEEP ISSUES!

When LAST NIGHT rolled around, I was almost giddy with excitement.  Some girls get plum dadgum thrilled at the prospect of dressing up in an evening gown and heading to a royal ball, and I’m here to tell you that I was EXACTLY THAT EXCITED… but over the thought of putting on my pajamas and getting into my very own bed, after the rough night we’d had before.  I’m pretty sure that I was grinning in twenty-seven different directions while I rocked Thing 2 to sleep at 7:30, because GLORY, GLORY, HALLELUJAH, Mama is going to bed now, too!

I told Hubs, “I will not attend any of your midnight fights tonight.  If you choose to go to battle, you’ll be on your own for rinsing out your mouthguard and putting the hood on your robe up when you finish.  You will BE!! QUIET!! TONIGHT!!”

I checked on the boys.  Thing 2 was sound asleep in his bed, and the boy was tucked into the recliner in our family room, with his heating blanket and pillow, because he has decided that sleeping in the cheaply-made, didn’t-cost-a-lot recliner, that is as comfortable as sitting on a bench made out of stone and covered in faux leather fabric can be, is his new FAVORITE SLEEPING SPOT.

Whatever.  He’s fourteen and capable of making decisions that will affect the longevity of his backbone for the rest of his life.

And then… BOOM!

I was out cold.

At 9:30, I remember in a fog of sleepiness that Hubs announced he was taking over the boy’s bed, since the boy had opted for the basement recliner.  The boy, you see, has a Tempur Pedic mattress, and we do not.  It takes a very little excuse for us to take over that mattress when the boy isn’t around to claim it himself.  Hubs and I have a mattress that is all about SLEEPING WITH YOUR  PERSONAL NUMBER, and I’m going to go on record and say that the thing cost more than my first car and is less comfortable than the concrete recliner is.

At 2:00 this morning, I woke up because the boy was standing beside my bed.  (Rest assured, fighting him never even occurred to me.)  He announced, “Mom?  Are you awake?  Because my stomach hurts bad!”

Which is how I came to be awake with the boy from 2:00 to 3:00 this morning.

At 3:00, he had fallen asleep in MY bed, so I decided that I would migrate to the sofa in the living room, because AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT RECLINER THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN HAULED TO THE LANDFILL SIX YEARS AGO.  Hubs was in the boy’s bed; the boy was in our bed; I was destined for the sofa, and I felt like we were living out a modern-day remake of Goldilocks and the Three Bears.

On my way from my bedroom to the living room, I had to pass Thing 2’s door.

He opened it at 3:02, and boldly shouted, “HE WANTS TO GO TO THE CAR WASH!!!!”

(He calls himself “he.”)

(It’s very cute during the daytime hours, but it is NOT AT ALL AN ENDEARING TRAIT at 3:02 in the morning.)

I assured the toddler that no one was washing any cars at 3 AM, and that he should get back into his bed THIS-VERY-STINKING-INSTANT-BEFORE-MAMA-LOSES-HER-MIND.

He went back to bed.

He got back up at 3:04.

He opened his bedroom door and hollered out again, “He wants to go to the car wash!”

Hubs came stumbling out of the boy’s bedroom, and said, “I’ll take this one.”  Hubs made a bed on Thing 2’s floor, and he snapped his fingers every time the toddler poked so much as a toe off the edge of his bed.

Thing 2 laid on his bed and sang songs to himself until 5:15 this morning.

Sometime about 3:15 this morning, I ended up on the boy’s gloriously wonderful mattress, but I was not able to sleep, as a rousing rendition of “The Wheels On The Bus Go ‘Round and ‘Round” was being belted out — IN TUNE!! — from Thing 2’s bedroom.  That song was followed by a chorus of “Happy Birthday,” which Thing 2 learned last week, and which he sings as “Birthday you!  Birthday you!”  When the birthday wishes were sung out and finished, we heard “God’s Not Dead,” “Old MacDonald,” “Copperhead Road,” and “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

(Thing 2 is one of those people who has a passion for ALL KINDS of music, and he can memorize a song better than I can memorize the drive-up menu at Starbucks.)

Finally, I realized at 5:15 this morning that the singing had quit.  I was asleep at 5:15 and just seven seconds after it.

At 5:30, I woke up because Cat 2 decided to jump up on the bathroom sink, and she knocked over our drinking glass.

It clattered to the floor with as much noise as a full-grown man fighting a Mylar balloon, while a building is exploding from dynamite in the background.

And THAT, folks, is how our night panned out.  With the exception of fifteen minutes, where I slept like I was a comatose victim and more than likely drooled on the boy’s pillow, I have been awake since 2:00 this morning.

We are ALL going to bed now, and there ain’t nobody getting out of their beds.  Ain’t nobody playing a game of musical beds either.  If anyone wakes me up tonight, I’ll be at the Holiday Inn afterward…

I’ll let y’all know tomorrow how it turned out.


I think there’s quite a bit of truth in THIS:


(And bless your heart if you actually read this whole thing.  My mind is numb from a lack of sleep, and this post is about as entertaining as having a fishhook stuck in your mouth is.)

Good night.

1 thought on “We’re Lacking In The Sleeping

  1. I’ll have you know there was no wild windmill arm flailing, there were three or four sharp jabs, a perfectly timed uppercut, and a head butt to finish it off. It tapped out and it was over. Nothing more to see folks, move it along. I’m thinking YOU woke Thing 2 last night to steal my bed. Think about it, makes sense.

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