All in a good night's sleep.

Why is it that 90% of all males have no problem (at all) with zonking out the nanosecond their heads hit the pillow? They've got the gene, I tell you. It's in the code.

And then there's me. Bright eyed, bushy tailed me. Uh, as if. Anyone who knows me will tell you that's a laughable description if you dare catch me in, oh, say, the first 13 hours of my day. In fact, my mom and I actually have this "other" gene, a very special gene reserved for only a select few. It's called the "wake her up too early and she'll barf on you" gene. Idn't that special? Yes, we get sick..to..our..stomachs if we stay up too late and then arise early; like when going on vacation, which pretty much means one, and probably both of us is pasty green and ready to hurl before we even leave the house for the airport. Like I said, special.

So I'm not a morning person. I'm a morning wanna be. And I'm a night owl. Not by choice. I just can't fall asleep because I'm just not tired before midnight. And it's always been that way. Ask my sister and she'll tell you she got to fall asleep each night to her own personal crooner, moi! She's just lucky like that.
I would sing some really great stuff too, like In A Cottage In A Wood, Miss Polly Had A Dolly, and hey, even Bobby Sherman tunes (he's before most of y'all's time but let me just say, when you're 7 and a guy's got a velvet choker on, it's pure love at first sight).


Yea, so I gather my sister must have been covered by that "skip a generation" gene pattern because she can fall asleep with the best of 'em (not that my singing had anything to do with that, uh hem).

So, now we have a baby in the house and it's a bit tricky to merge his feeding schedule with my whacked out sleeping schedule. Uh, I lay down at midnight, fall asleep at, say, 1am and.........wha'sat? Baby's crying and ready to feed at 1:05 (guess I'm just lucky like that). He's making some strides lately but I'm still looking for that golden "all nighter" where he just sleeps straight through; you know,the night that causes many parents near stroke because now their wish came true but what if something's wrong? Jump out of bed. Run to bassinet to check on baby. Only to discover he's still sound asleep. Meanwhile, the residual adrenaline rush cancels the need for morning coffee.

Okay, so now that you know my sleep(less) habits and have an idea of the additional barriers to sleep that have been working on me these past several months, I'll share what lack of sleep does to a person (I knocked myself out cold tripping over the dog when Reece was an infant but that's another story for another day). The other night, I was sleeping (I'm using that word lightly) when it occurred to me that I wasn't in that unachievable R.E.M. phase (I never am. It's pretty hard to get there when one's noting ceiling patterns). Instead, I was in a state of endless coughing. Didn't want to wake the baby by getting up for cough medicine. Knew I'd wake him if I kept hacking up a lung. What to do? (Condoleezza Rice's dilemmas must pale by comparison). Get up, Toni. Get the cough medicine and stop the hack. I stagger into the walk-in closet and locate the Robitussin. Ut oh. No spoon and no little cup-a-ma-jig. Now what? Well gee whiz, people. It's 3am and I just don't give a hoot so I take off the cap do what any classy chick would do. I pour myself a capful, then (and I'm not sure how I managed this) I poured it not in my mouth but down the front of my jammies and directly onto the carpet. Oh, and on two hanging shirts. And some might have gotten in a dusty shoe but I haven't been back to check. For Pete's sake (whoever Pete is)! I now had to turn on lights, find wash cloths and scrub like a deckhand to clean up the cherry colored syrup from the carpet. 3am and I'm polishing synthetic fibers. Say it isn't so (whine added for emphasis).

Clean up done. Back to sleep (the cough miraculously disappeared; I believe the stress killed it). The next sleep "intermission" came when I was dreaming that, of all things, I needed sleep. In my dream I told my oldest child to leave me alone so I could take a short nap. She's a gabber, that one, so even in my dreams I'm cutting deals with her for a few moments of silence. In my dream, I'm sleeping on the couch and suddenly, my daughter is tap, tap, tapping my shoulder.
"I told you to let Mama sleep!" Only, it wasn't my daughter. It was Carl tapping me in my sleep dream while tapping me in real life (like looking at your reflection in a mirror, then another, then another.....'ya ever do that?). Yes, I had just fallen asleep from the coughing drama and now I was wide awake again because my hubby needed pain medicine and asked if I could get it.
Stagger up. Lay back down.

Lemme try this sleep thing..one. more. time. Lay down. Doze. Aw, for cryin' out loud. Now Carl decided he couldn't sleep and was heading downstairs to try to find a comfortable position in his recliner.
Whatever.
C'mon now. It's 3:30(ish) and I'm googly eyed. But hey, I have the whole bed to myself. Ah! This might work.
And it does. I fall asleep after tossing several pillows on my head to run interference from my enemies, light and sound. G'night!

Now, some time later (the birds were singing), I woke up. Not wanting to face the morning (remember, "morning wanna be" only), I forced just one eye to open to see if daylight had arrived. I raise my eyelid to take a look-see and.....
AaaaaAAAhhhhh!!!

I bolted upright gasping for air.

Who's hand is that?

Again, I had pillows over my head, very little sleep to go on, and then there's that "other" gene to contend with.
My heart was beating like a rabbit and I'm pretty sure I stopped breathing altogether.
A hand.
When I had opened my one eye, I had seen an unfamiliar hand hanging right over the edge of my pillow (looking to suffocate or strangle me, no doubt). It all happened so fast. Where was my husband? How did that hand get in here? And who did it belong to?

Who did it belong to?
Shrek.
Uh huh, that Shrek.
My daughter has an enormous stuffed Shrek. Her daddy bought it for her when he lived away from us in Chicago (job relocation). He used to load Shrek up with hugs for her so she could cash one in when she missed him. Apparently she thought her daddy would feel better if he slept with her Shrek for the night. I'm always out of the loop. Didn't know we were having a sleepover with Shrek. Yes sirree, I almost stroked and all because Shrek tried to mug me. All in a good night's sleep.