Sleepless in Baltimore

I have a simple request. I really don't think I'm asking for much. I'm not attempting to end world hunger or find alternative energy sources. I'm not even asking for the mail to be delivered earlier and the recycling to be picked up later. I just want to sleep.

I want just one full night of uninterrupted sleep. The kind of sleep you wake up from feeling rested.

I haven't had an amazingly full night of sleep since...I dunno, approximately April 2008. Really, my ob/gyn should have forewarned me. I think that should be part of the standard prenatal advice.

"Now make sure you take your vitamins, lay off the raw oysters, and kiss the dream of sleeping good, ever again, good-bye."

It's my entire household's fault that I don't sleep the recommended amount. 

Let's start with the biggest culprit, K. She's been ruining my chances at a good night sleep since before she was even born. Everyone warns new mothers. Sleep when the baby sleeps, they say. But they forget to mention the millions of reasons toddlers, and then preschoolers, still wake up entirely too much during the night. The excuses K gives when she wanders into my bedroom at odd hours of the night are endless. "I had a bad dream. I'm thirsty. I'm hungry. My tummy hurts. Moo Moo woke me up. I'm wet. Papa woke me up. I threw up." It goes on and on. Every now again, she wakes up about 2am, thinks it's morning, turns her light on and starts playing. I can guarantee that will never happen to me. I will never confuse 2am for 7am. In a desperate attempt to sleep, I taught her a phrase. "When the sun is up, the K is up. When the sun is down, the K is down." I'm not sure it's working, but she seems to enjoy saying it.

Moving right along, my dear husband. He snores. Let me say that again for extra emphasis. HE SNORES! Not every single night. But when does, it's loud. Like, pillow over my head, fingers in my ears, I can still hear it, loud. It's a source of contention in my house. I guess, you could say, I'm not the nicest when I attempt to rouse him. In my defense, I always try once nicely...a gentle touch on the shoulder, hey babe you're snoring. It never works. I'm forced to go to extremes. After all, if he's sleeping I should be allowed to, too. I have shoved, pushed with my foot (I just can't bring myself to write that I've kicked my husband. It sounds awful,) held his nose closed (my personal fav, his most detested,) and I have hit. I'm not proud. I'm not an abusive wife. I just want to sleep.

Next up in the plan to never let me sleep good, the animals. Marley licks her bed. It's like nails on a chalkboard. I can not sleep with that noise. Speaking of nails, when she paces from room to room, it's done with a click click click of her toenails on the hardwood floors. And every single night, Moo decides to pick a fight with Ellie. Literally. Every single night. Have you heard cats fighting? It's a wretched sound.

And now, my contribution to my sleep problems. I'm a light sleeper. Everything wakes me up. If K, still sleeping, cries out from a dream, I wake up. If she rolls over and bumps the rails of her bed, I wake up. If hubby comes to bed after watching a late game, I hear him on the steps. And now, I'm so conditioned, my internal clock wakes me up every few hours, you know, just incase.

I'm not sure how to solve my problem. A bottle of Tylenol PM? Maybe a separate wing of the house just for me? Or it's possible, I have to accept that this is just one of those joys of motherhood everyone is always talking about.

Moo Moo Fatty Patty Spaghetti

Today, I would like to extend my gratitude to someone who works his magic behind the scenes of the Dark Side of Aurora. He loves unconditionally and there is no end to his tolerance. He's often overlooked, but is crucial for any attempt at daily harmony. I would like to offer my kudos and a round of applause to, none other than, the famous...Moo, aka Moo Moo Kitty and Moo Moo Fatty Patty Spaghetti!

Moo has been K's best friend since conception. Literally. I'm not joking. It was obvious. Moo is not my favorite cat. I find him to be obnoxious and ridiculously mean to his sister, Ellie. I'm sure he picks up on the vibe. But when I was pregnant, he wouldn't leave me alone. As soon as I sat down, he was in my lap, laying on my stomach, purring. Just what any fat, pregnant woman wants, a hairy creature smushing her already crowded belly. He was so persistent, I eventually gave in. It became a nightly ritual, he would lay with K. It was obvious, it wasn't me he was interested in, it was her.

Since then, they have been best buds. Partners in crime. He was her alibi the day she pulled this stunt. He sleeps with her at night, misses her terribly when she leaves, and is waiting by the door when she returns. He's never scratched or bitten her, and as many have witnessed, she's not alway the nicest to Moo. In fact, sometimes, she blatantly abuses him. He never complains. She pulls his tail, he comes back for more. If she wants to play dress up, he's in. No objections.

No one wears a necklace better than Moo. Or hair bows, barrettes, bunny ears, reindeer antlers, tutus, tiaras, or fairy wings. No matter the event, Moo Moo's dressed to the nines. And a look is never complete without makeup.

Moo proudly wears makeup, imaginary of course. Face paint too, if it pleases her. He never gripes. He would walk through fire, wearing plastic princess heels, if she asked him to.

To sweet, patient Moo...I would like to say thank you. Thank you for following her around the house, being the most loyal playmate a little girl could ask for. Thank you for playing countless games and embarking on endless imaginary journeys with K. Thanks for braving her tantrums, often bearing the brunt of her anger and sadness. You are her best friend. Gracias.

***Out of respect for K's tabby cat, I will not, at this time go into the details of the heinous acts of molestation inflicted upon poor, poor Ellie. But let it be known, if he wasn't so amazing with K...him and I would have major issues.