4.03.2008

Buzz kills are my specialty

Two nights ago, I was very ill and very tired. To ensure I would sleep through the night, I took Nyquil and a Tylenol PM. I passed out the moment my head hit the pillow and there was a pile of drool on my pillow when I woke up. I know because I distinctly remember that wake up call.

I didn't hear the bedroom door open. I didn't hear the pitter patter of little feet. And I didn't even hear them climbing the step stool at the foot of the bed. That's how out I was. It took bouncing on the bed to yank me out of REM sleep. My head was so foggy I didn't even lift my head up. My eyes felt heavy and my first thought was that I didn't know how I could get through the day that exhausted.

Our kids don't normally come in our bedroom to wake us up. It's not anything we trained them not to do. The newest 4 year old just always waited for us to come get her. Even when she moved from a crib to a big girl bed. She just happily played in her bed until we came. It was awesome.

In the last six months, she's started coming out of her room in the morning, but she still doesn't generally come get us. We usually just find her sitting at the dining room table coloring or flipping through a book on the couch. Again, awesome. Except when my husband's out of town. Because then she pops right in to get me. In the last month, she's been doubling my pleasure by helping her brother out of his crib too. Clearly, this wake up call should tell you my husband's out of town again. Oh, the joy.

But I was so tired. Way more tired that usual when these wake up calls occur. And then they turned all the lights on and flung themselves on my back. The two year old began riding me like a pony. All the commotion woke up both the dogs and they're jumping around wanting to go outside now too. And, again, mucho tired and pondering how many Dr. Peppers it's going to take to make me feel human. But the bedroom had been so dark. Why was it so dark when I first woke up? Exactly how early are they getting me up?

So I motivate myself to roll over and lift my head off the pillow to check the clock. I think I see a "2" on the display except I'm sort of blinking while my eyes adjust to all the light so I think maybe it was a "5" instead. And "5" makes a lot more sense inside my head. So I look again and it really is a "2." But there's a pillow and bunched up comforter sort of in front of the "2" so I start thinking maybe I just didn't see the "1" before the "2." Because in my head midnight would mean the newest 4 year old had just somehow stayed up way past her bedtime instead of being a complete wackjob. Because by now they're both bouncing off the bed and running down the hall squealing and anything other than way past bedtime meant my head might explode.

Too bad it was 2:38. She had been asleep. Then she woke up. And because she can't tell time, waking up meant it must be morning so then she got up. She flicked on the light in her brother's room and got him up too. Then they turned on every light in the house and raided the kitchen for some Kix. That's when they decided to come get me.

2:38. Everyone wide awake and ready to party. Except me because I'm medicated and desperate to sleep. Our 2 year old hates bedtime as it is. Kid's been crying every night at bedtime for a month now. How the hell am I supposed to explain to him the difference between morning and "your sister is insane."

It went as well I had expected. Which was badly. In the foggy Nyquil haze I had to chase him around the dining room table pulling all the chairs back out of the way and then dragging him out from under it by the shirt. I tried rocking him to help him calm down but that was like tossing a thimble of water at a house fire.

While he was letting me know how endlessly futile that had been, I headed next door to give his sister a briefing on just what a buzz kill she was in for. It included, "I don't care if you go back to sleep or not but don't get out of your bed again until it's light outside." I also explained that her brother is not to be woken up ever unless flames are literally shooting out of the wall at her. I wanted to use the phrase "in for a world of hurt" but I wasn't sure she'd understand it.

And then I laid down and passed out again. The best part of the story is how easily I fell back asleep. The worst part of the story is that my second wake up call of the day was a mere 3 hours later. Apparently, 5:30 looks light outside when you're 4. And insane. What. On Earth.

3 comments:

Trenches of Mommyhood said...

Sitting here yawning for you.

Childlife said...

Ouch!! That was painful just to read! (And, OK... pretty funny too when it's someone else's kids.) I was once awakened to find my child coloring the soles of my feet with a black sharpie marker... I feel your pain. Hope tonight's better. But I'd hide the sharpie markers just to be safe.

Kritter Krit said...

Oh. MY GOSH.

See? That, right there is my biggest fear about moving Sophie from a crib to a big girl bed.

Nevermind that she's three and could have/should have been moved a year-ish ago.

I know her. She is such a light sleeper, and SUCH a party-in-the-middle-of-the-night kind of girl, she will most definitely be waking me up MANY times in the wee a.m hours. The thought of doing the run-around-the-dining-room-table scene at 2 in the morning - oh how it makes me cringe.

And so she stays. In her crib. Probably until she goes to kindergarten and starts having friends over to spend the night. When her social status is in jeopardy, then I'll think about moving her to a real bed.

And only then.

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