Except for the gurgling of the fishtank in the boys' room, my house is quiet this morning. Unlike it was at 2 a.m. Or 4:30. Or 6:30. Or 7:45.
I feel like I already have a newborn again. I wake up feeling like it's the end of a long day, instead of the beginning. Only, instead of going to bed at 8 p.m. like I will when the new kid arrives, I climbed onto Grouper's trundle at 10, and accidently fell asleep. I woke up around midnight, squished against the side of Puffer's bunk, my back bare to the cold air under the bed. He felt me move, and slid that much closer to me, so I had to squeeze myself up carefully, the plastic mattress cover crinkling noisily the whole way.
Just as I was settled into bed next to UberDad, I heard Emma the cat scratching at the front door. So, I climbed out, let her in, and tried to get warm again. Two hours later, from deep in REM sleep, I heard Grouper calling me. My heavy body begged me to let him scream, but I knew if I didn't catch him in time, he'd be climbing into my bed soon anyway. Fortunately, a few caresses of his forehead had him settled again.
This time when I climbed back into my bed my stomach was starting to grumble. "NO!" I yelled in my head. "I will NOT get up and feed you! Go to SLEEP!"
Two more hours of so-called rest. Then -- "MOMMY! MOMMEEEEE!!! MOOOOOMMMMEEEE!!!!" Puffer this time, with a bad dream, and he's woken up Grouper. Rub the forehead, fix the covers, pick up the 3-year-old, and drag us back to my bed. Not to sleep, mind you, because outside it is now pouring down rain so loudly that I'm reminded of my visit to the Black Forest in Germany, where there's no such thing as a rain "drop," only rain boulders.
It's now 5 a.m. Grouper squirms. My stomach whines. The rain pounds. The covers fall to one side of the bed making me feel lopsided because UberDad refuses to straighten them on his side. And I'm reminded of being irritated with him for spending $120 on a hardbound set of The Chronicles of Narnia with the Christmas money I thought we were going to use on a trampoline.
I finally get up and storm out of the bedroom, drink some orange juice, and sit on the couch, fuming about the incessantly loud rain, my budget unconscious husband, and my own hypersensitivity, low blood sugar, and missing sense of humor.
Eventually, I get tired enough to go back to bed, where Grouper is at least not squirming anymore.
BEEP!! BEEP!! BEEP!! UberDad's alarm clock goes off at 6:30.
"MOMMY!! MOMMEEEEE!!!! MOOOOOOMMMMMEEEEE!!!!!" Puffer wakes up at 7, wanting me to come carry him to my bed. Thankfully, UberDad hears him and takes care of it.
"Mommy, I need milk." I get the milk. "Mommy, I'm COLD! I want my blanket from my bed." Get your own darn blanket. "Mommy, I had a dream about..." Tell me later, I'm still SLEEPING!
At 8 a.m., my mother comes in, coffee in hand. She get the boys dressed, tells me she'll take them to her house, and that my sister is coming at 10 to clean my house for me.
I might just survive the day after all.