I've written about sleep before. In fact, I think about sleep often. I try to nap every day at 1:30 for thirty minutes. Just like they taught me in Kindergarten. Sleep is precious. But in different ways for different people.
I think of new moms, and hell, for them 3 hours in a row of sleep is magical.
I have friends who are insomniacs, and that seems hellacious. For them, it's not so much the going to sleep, it's the staying asleep that is elusive.
I think of the elderly, and their remarkable ability to fall asleep any time any where, like in the middle of one of my sentenc--zzzzzzzzzzzzz.
When I'm sick, and sleep is threatened, I do everything I can to preserve it--bourbon, Nyquil, Advil, all three--sometimes if I have a head cold, M thinks I'm trying to off myself with all the stuff to just sleep through it.
Sleep with school aged children is more or less normal. The occasional nightmare or thunderstorm sends pitter-pattering little feet into my side of the bed, but mostly, they sleep fairly normally. (Once I actually can get them in bed. Apparently, S caught an episode of "Are You There, Chelsea?" along with the end of "Whitney" last night) So, when my sleep is disturbed, it's a big deal to me.
So. At some point this morning, M's alarm goes off. I have an iHome alarm next to my bed, but I keep the digital screen dark because I don't like the glow. Last night, my phone wasn't charging in it, either. But, the alarm goes off, and E comes in for a snooze button's worth of dozing in our bed.
He does this every morning. And every morning it annoys me. Not because of his ice cold feet, or his rancid morning breath, or his endless chatter, but because it's my morning, and I feel entitled to wake up at my own pace. I have personal space issues, and a third person (FIFTH creature, given the cat and dog are already in the bed full time) REALLY cuts into my space.
So, E is in the bed, the snooze button has been pressed, and M and I moan about the shortness of sleep and the relentlessness of every workday morning. After nine minutes, the alarm sounds again, and M announces to us that it is time to get up.
I get out of bed, stretch a little, potty. The bathroom seems unusually dark. (I do not turn on the lights in the morning until I reach the kitchen.) Granted, the weather's been grey lately, so I figure it's about to rain again. But then, I go to the top of the stairs, and consider waking S. I look outside, and something is just not right.
I go BACK to my nightstand and press the light on my alarm clock. 1:58 AM. What the what? I look at my watch laying next to the clock: 2 AM (I set my watch fast, since I'm always late. It actually doesn't help my punctuality, but it does set up a wormhole between the clock in the car and my watch.)
E is in his room, staring at the closet, preparing to dress. M is begging for 3 more minutes. I check a third watch--just to make sure--and lo, it is only 2 in the morning. I go back to E's room and tell him to sleep for 4 more hours. I come back to the snuggly bed and tell M to sleep for 4 more hours. I snuggle down into the covers and try to rediscover sleep after going through my Pavlovian wake-up moves.
Everything is screwed. It takes FOREVER to go back to sleep, and when I did, my dreams were weird, XMen mutant type sagas. (Laugh it up, once you have 2 boys, your dreams are no longer the workings of your own imagination. It's been a while, for example, since George Clooney has paraded through my subconscious. Unless he guest appears on the "Clone Wars," or Lego makes a minifigure of him, I suppose he won't be flitting back into the dream machine anytime soon.)
This morning, I ask S if he tinkered with Dad's alarm clock. I got a firm denial, but you never know with that kid.
In the end, I got back probably three hours of sleep, but those were not nearly as indulgent as they should have been.
I will be storing this little prank in the crevices of my mind, and when I have a teenage S who wants nothing more than to sleep 'til noon, I may pull out this bad boy on him. Maybe on a Saturday.
In the meantime, I dream of revenge.
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