In the car on the way home:

Ben: Wow, they are right! Counting cows totally works. I was just counting cows and I got super sleepy. Even yawned.

Me: What? Counting what?

Ben: Cows.

Me: Um Ben, usually people count SHEEP. Not cows.

Ben: Yeah well, that’s stupid. Counting cows is much more relaxing.

Me: laughing. Really? How do you figure?

Ben: Think about it Mom. A sheep goes “BAAAA!” and that’s such an annoying sound. It’s like a string being plucked. “BAA!”  But “moo” makes me calm. Sounds almost like a yawn.

Me: Moooo-awn.

Ben: Exactly!  Mooooo-awn.

Me: more laughing. I like it.

Ben: You’re going to blog about this, aren’t you?

Me: Possibly.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Click.

In here it’s warm.
Out there it’s cold.

In here the pillow and blankets have all formed around my body like a symphony of comfort.
Out there I have yet to turn the heat on.

In here I have no responsibility but to burrow further into the covers and ignore the alarm.
Out there I have a child to get off to school, a job to go to and humans I have to converse with.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Hit.

In here my hair is just as it should be after eight hours of molding itself to the pillow.
Out there I have to deal with a very weird haircut that is now overgrown thus making it even weirder.

In here I can force myself to go back to the dream where I’m flying over some mountains with my new pretty pink wings.
Out there I have to get into my old car and with it’s old battery and pray it turns over.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
THWACK!

In here I have to pee. Badly.
Out there is a toilet.

In here I am thirsty.
Out there is coffee.

In here I’m getting sort of lonely.
Out there is Matt.

Out there wins.

Last night I was awoken by the deafening sound of silence. It took me a moment to figure out what was going on. Was I dead? Was I in some super calm sleep and still needed to wake up? Or did I mysteriously go deaf in the middle of the night? When I was coherent enough to be sane, I realized that the power went out. We were having a normal albeit crazy Midwestern thunderstorm with so much lightening it could put a dance club to shame. 

Therefore, I wasn’t too shocked.  But because last night was the first time I turned the air on in my new place, I worried that I blew a fuse. I do love my apartment something fierce, but the old girl, well she isn’t the newest building on the block. When I moved the little switch to “cool on” it made a noise similar to that of a propeller airplane. The noise didn’t bother me because at the time I was so hot and sticky, I could listen to nails on a chalkboard just as long as I was cool.

But there in the dark and the silence, my addled-middle-of-the-night-mind went on overdrive. Did I really blow a fuse? If so, how was I going to fix that? Or perhaps this was some bad guy who knocked my breaker and was about to attack?  Did the power company choose ME to shut the power off as a psychological experiment?

Realizing it could be any and ALL of the above, I somehow summoned the courage to go downstairs and find my cell. All the way down the dark steps I muttering to myself “thisissoscarythisissoscarythisissoscary…”

You really don’t realize how much you rely on power until you have none. Profound huh?  But really, with no nightlights, no light on the microwave clock or DVD player. Just dark.  And then there’s the silence.  That’s the worst part of a black out for me. No nice hum of the fridge, the computer or a fans. If I ever get caught by the enemy in the middle of war (which could TOTALLY HAPPEN) in order to torture me, just give me a room with NO SOUND AT ALL.

Anyway, since I was Super Woman and wouldn’t let my boy upstairs die in a blackout (again, could TOTALLY happen) I found my cell and called the electric company. No, not the one that used to be after Sesame Street, but wouldn’t THAT be cool?

After telling them I had no power and giving this lady who was very pleasant for 2:30am, my address I immediately asked, “Am I the ONLY one in this area to lose power!?” She literally laughed at me and said “No. There are many calls coming in…”

As much as I wanted to wake up Ben and have his company during this momentous occasion, I reminded myself that I am in fact his mother, and not his roommate or big sister and therefore I could check on the boy (with my make shift cell phone flashlight) but then I had to take myself, and the now total lack of drama, back to bed.

When the power came back on an hour later, I truly have never been so happy to hear the roar of Bessie (that’s the name I have given my central air) and the breeze from the fan in my face.

I have also made a solemn vow to never be late on my utility bill!

Benjamin Franklin once said, “In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes”.  Except Dr. Franklin forgot one other constant of life.  That my son will end up in bed with me at some point during the night.  

This little tradition started, oh, as soon as he was sprung from his bedtime jail, a.k.a. his crib.  And now, 7 years later (yes, I was one of those suckers who thought it would be so cute for him to have his own little bed at the age of 1 1/2.  STUPID STUPID STUPID!  To any new mothers out there, keep them locked up as LONG AS YOU CAN!)  he still loves to sleep with his mama.

Minus the year exemption when I was living with my ex, this has been a nightly occurrence.  He always starts in his bed but at some point, “sleep walks” as he calls it, into mine. 

This was fine, somewhat acceptable even, when he was little and snugly and soft.  But now?  Now it’s like sleeping with a over-sized fish out of water. 

Flip.  Flop.  Flip. 

Make that an over-sized fish with super pointy sharp elbows and knees who loves to act out his dreams and therefore kick.  A lot. 

Make that an over-sized fish out of water, with sharp edges and a deviated septum.  Yes, THAT is what it’s like to sleep with Ben.  Any takers?

See this child?

He started out the night in his bed.  I know because I put him there.  This picture is taken in the morning.  Not in his bed.  In mine. 

I’m sure you are all saying, “Lady!  Get a grip.  Just put him back in his bed.”  Right.  Great.  Thanks.  It’s just not that easy.  We live in a loft where I sleep upstairs and his room is downstairs.   So I do feel a little bad for the guy.  He says it’s scary.  He says he believes in monsters.   I’m a sucker.  I believe him.

The other problem is that since I have a king sized bed, I often don’t notice him creeping in, until the snoring fish starts kicking and flopping.  And by that time it’s either already time for me to get up or I’m too tired to deal.  So instead I just kick him back and roll him over. 

But seriously, the dude is almost 9.  We both have made so many excuses.  “When we get a house, our rooms will be closer to each other.”  “When you are nine.  For sure when you are nine.”  “When a black Democrat with a middle name of Hussein becomes President.”

But now it’s time.  No more excuses.  Because the truth is I’m tired.  And call me crazy but I’m not really a fan of the kidney punch at 3am.

THE TIME HAS COME TO TAKE BACK MY BED!

Because this dude? 

Yeah, he’s still in my bed.

Wordless Wednesday

I’m writing this post at 2:33AM when I should be sleeping.  Not awake at my computer.  I’m tired, I think, but I can’t sleep. 

I have always been the best sleeper.  My mother used to look at me with such envy with her tired, 4 hour sleep eyes.  I was one of those people who when my head would hit the pillow, in roughly three minutes I’d be out until my alarm went off in the morning.   I got this gift from my father and luckily Ben has it too.

Sadly, I think I have been kicked out of their club.

Maybe it’s just a phase.  Maybe it’s just because it’s summer and it feels like 120 degrees in here even though yes, the air is on.   Maybe it’s because I woke up to go to the bathroom and now I can’t get back to sleep because I’m thinking about work tomorrow and my car that desperately needs to get fixed but where am I going to get the extra cash and when was my last blog post about and oh yeah, that, and what date is it and when does my MG&E bill come and wow how much is that going to be with the air running all the time and but why is it still so hot in here and what are all of Ben’s activities this week and does he have the right clothes clean for those activities and what great comeback can I give back to Josh the next time he tells me Global Warming isn’t real and STOP!  JUST SHHHHHHHHHH!  Be done!

Or maybe this is the time I kiss my father’s genes goodbye and get on my mothers insomniac bandwagon.  And thank you Mr. Brain because now I’m going to be thinking about that until my alarm goes off.

Sigh.

To all those sleeping.  I’m jealous.  To those of us in this world awake at now 2:47AM on a Tuesday morning… Hi.