Tuesday, August 12, 2008

In Which I Am Willing to Trade My Kids and Pets For One Night of 8 Hour Sleep

I have this goal that I am going to get up at 6 a.m. and make my husband and kids a nice healthy breakfast in the morning. A breakfast that isn't a bagel or a bowl of cereal, which is all the kids get when Mr. Hobbitfeet makes breakfast. Well, sometimes he makes instant oatmeal. I really would love to make them scrambled egg whites.
So every night I go to bed thinking, "Tomorrow, I'll do it." Then the night hits me. No matter what time I physically go to bed, I cannot fall asleep until at least 12:30 a.m. (if I'm lucky). I just lie there thinking, completely unable to turn my brain off no matter what I do.
Mr. H. can lay down no matter what time of day or night and instantly be in a deep sleep, and once he's there nothing, NOTHING can wake him up (short of a high pitched scream directly in his ear or possibly a blow job, but who wants to go there?). I hate him.
The slightest thing wakes me up, a loud owl, a weird breeze. Sometimes, absolutely nothing will wake me up. I'll be asleep having nice dreams, and BAM! I am wide awake for no discernible reason. Every now and again (though much less if I take a sleep aid) I'll wake myself up as I am running screaming down the hall turning on every light in the house. Why do I do that? I never have any knowledge.
Then there are nights like last night. The dog, the cat, and Girl all decided that they needed to sleep with us. Despite being a queen-sized bed, there is no room for that shit. Of course, since Mr. H's feet go all the way to the bottom of the bed, they are all on my side. At first it was okay. Everyone took up some space, but we were all feeling cozy, but at 3 a.m. the cat and the dog remembered they hate each other and start brawling and I am trapped between Girl and Mr. H.
So everyone is kicked out. Girl is pt back in her own bed, which makes her cry for hours and the cat and dog are thrown out.
Of course, this isn't the end of it. I have to leave the door open in case one of my kids needs me, and the cat and t he dog aren't fooled for a second by my closing it most of the way, but leaving it open a crack. They keep pawing the door so it opens and then staring at me from the doorway before resuming their brawl.
Finally, I can't take it anymore. Even though it is a chilly night, I turn on my two fans for the white noise and dig myself deep into the covers. 4 a.m. and I am back asleep. Then 7:30 a.m. rolls around and I am awakened by Girl, once again in my bed, wanting me to tell her how many days it is until she can sleep over at my mom's farm, how many days until school starts, how to spell this and that, until I am fully awake with a pounding, not-enough-sleep-for-the fifth-night-in-a-row headache and every muscle sore from last night's battle with kids to big to carry and stupid pets.
"Go watch t.v. with your brother," I mumble, very much aware of the shitty parenting I am doing.
Five more minutes and I am wide awake because the dog is barking his "someone's here bark" which is much, much louder than his "there's a deer in our driveway" bark or his "there's a dog being walked and I can see it" bark. So I get up to make sure my kids aren't going to allow a religious nut into the house. But it is just Blondie, the kid whose is Boy's age and gets babysat by his Grandma who lives across the street. Luckily, Boy sends him away. Knowing I won't let him out until breakfast has been eaten and Mama is awake. Good ole Boy. He sure takes care of his Mom!
Maybe when I sell the pets and Girl (to the gypsies as my dad always said), I'll keep him around.

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