My heart sinks into the depths of my belly. He's up.
I roll over and face my sleep nemesis, Big E.
YES, BIG E?
I take a look at the clock. 2:45. Didn't I just fall asleep like 20 minutes ago? It was more like 10:30, but it felt like 20 minutes ago.
I HAVE AN IMPORTANT QUESTION FOR YOU!
This simple phrase is the blue screen of death for the remainder of my restful night.
SH*T SH*T SH*T!
I didn't say this to my child, but I knew what was about to go down and I was not ready for it. Not this night.
I had spent the day fasting and then gorging and I just felt all out of sorts.
WHERE DO ROCKET SHIPS LIVE?
What the hell? That is your important, 2:45 AM question?
I won't let this goober stump me, even in my zombie like state.
Mr. Yoy and give each other imaginary high fives. He is up, too. He stifles a laugh. I smile at him, but also want to punch him in the face a little.
Clearly it is the Yoy genes that keep Big E up all night. If you know me, you know I'm an 11-7er for life. Always. I literally fall asleep wherever I am if it is past my bedtime. Mr. Yoy is a vampire. It's amazing that we are ever up at the same time.
Big E asks for some more water. I oblige and herd him back to bed. He jumps right in. Crisis averted? I feel the hope pulse through my tired, old body.
While I'm up, I use the bathroom. I hear Big E through the wall. He's chatting up no one in particular, but he has so much to say.
I'm screwed. He's way too alert to go back to sleep. For all I know, he had been laying in his bed formulating the rocket ship question for the last hour.
Defeated, I climb back into bed. Denial is my new best friend. I tuck my head under my pillow and pray that the next time I open my eyes it'll be seven.
I hear his tiny feet on our carpet. Like a bad penny, he's returned.
MOM, GIVE ME CHOICES.
I give him choices if he wakes up a few minutes early and I need like thirty more minutes of sleep.
YOU CAN STAY IN YOUR ROOM AND READ BOOKS OR YOU CAN GO BACK TO SLEEP.
YOU CAN DO LEARNING BOOKS OR YOU CAN PLAY WITH YOUR FIRE STATION.
Stuff, like that.
At 2:45 in the morning, what sort of choices do I give him?
YOU CAN TAKE THE KEYS TO THE VAN AND DRIVE TO WAFFLE HOUSE FOR SOME BREAKFAST OR YOU CAN SCOUR THE INTERNET FOR A NEW FAMILY.
YOU CAN GO BACK TO BED OR YOU CAN HEAD OVER TO DUNKIN' DONUTS TO HELP MAKE THE DONUTS.
Before my brain even thinks up the choices he declares he wants to play downstairs.
Oh, and he needs someone to watch him.
In this scenario, that would be me, in case you were confused.
I roll out of bed and head to my next station of rest, the couch. Mr. Yoy makes a weak effort to come, too.
I tell him to sleep, he has to deal with real people in the morning.
I can just be a crazy b*tch to our children all day without any real ramifications.
I try to sleep but Big E is constantly at my side with questions, requests, toy issues.
I am delirious. I begin to softly sob because I know the rest of the day is going to be pretty bad. I doze off long enough to have some creepy dream. Ugh, no thanks.
At 5:30, Little E decides he wants to party, too.
Now they both are up. Little E just wants to lay on me and whine.
At 6:30 I fake like I have to use the bathroom. I sneak upstairs and wake up Mr. Yoy. He agrees to swap with me so I can get an hour more of sleep in peace.
And boy do I.
And I ducked out on a giant Little E dump. Yes!
Anyway, if I saw you today and looked busted and acted like a witch, I apologize.
I'm going to bed early tonight, because I never know when I'll get my wake up call.