Summer is here and the time is right for everybody to sleep. Tell that to my 8 year old night own who rises with the sun and delays bedtime as much as possible; despite my promise that NOTHING happens after 10pm. He is a creature of habit and I suppose the sunrise wake up will bump till later, just about the time school is going to kick in.
Last night went as always… the stall, the story, and the snoring. He’s pretty predictable. Until sometime after midnight. Poke poke comes a little finger into my exposed calf. “Mama. Mom. I need you. Wake up come with me”. I’m not sure what I said but I did the post midnight shuffle following him across the hall and into his bedroom. He gets back in bed covers himself up, calls for the dog, and promptly goes back to sleep. I was glad to be there, to do what I dunno. I settle back in, just drifting into REM because I remember dreaming, then here’s the poke. Poke. Poke. “Mom. I need you “. Ok dude, I have to leave the house at 7am, please… “Mom I don’t know what to do”. “About what?” “My sleeping conditions”. Conditions? What is this kid talking about? Certain I must be dreaming, I turn over. Poke. Poke. I put my legs inside the inferno of the bed covers. “Mom, what do I do?”. Wait you’re here still? “Just snuggle in bed with me”, this is my go to, especially when my eyes feel like little slits filled with coarse Mediterranean Sea salt. “I don’t know what to do” is his reply. Ok so this is going to require more cognitive functioning, so I sit up. He seems to explain he needs a new place to sleep. I offer to take him to his bed, I offer the couch in our bedroom, the one outside our bedroom, the dog crate… he finally agrees to get into the middle of the bed.
The filling of the bed Oreo does not last for long. Heavy sigh, toss, turn. Leg kick, heavy sigh, pillow flip. This goes on for what seems like light years. “Dude what’s up”? “My legs hurt”. “Mine too” I share and offer the ever useful ankle wiggle technique. “Tell me a story?” he asks. Reminding myself that something must be up for him to be here I thankfully don’t have a melt down about how I have to be up in what feels like 14 minutes. And begin the tale of Bones McGee… ??? No idea where this one came from.
Ultimately Bones wins the World Series with the baseball bat made from his moms leg bones that she donated because they always hurt…. Now, currently as I type, By the light of morning I am seriously questioning my story telling abilities . But little guy shook me several times during the story to tell me I had fallen asleep and needed to keep going. At the end of the story he says “I think I need my stuff “ and springboards out of the bed. How my husband has slept through this, I have no idea. He returns and says “here’s your squishmallow.” Snuggles up and is snoring before I can take my nightly 3am tums.
This mornings alarm seems to follow seconds later. As I try to pack pillows and blankets around him so he feels like I’m still there I notice my husbands spot is empty. Only to find the poor guy outside the bedroom asleep on the couch. Maybe he didn’t like Bones McGee? But at least my little one was still asleep.
So this morning, I’m on my 3rd Diet Coke and am considering purchasing my first coffee or first Monster beverage. Hopefully he’s still asleep. I love when my children ask me to help them, it’s why we are parents. We can’t set the time or circumstances, we can only be there when the poke comes. So as I search for makeup tips on how to appear well rested I will remind myself to be thankful he came to me… this is what helps to keep my sanity.