Good Morning, Mommy

At approximately 5:15 this morning, I heard the pitter-patter of little footsteps across our bedroom carpet.

"Can I sleep in your bed?" said Colin, in his regular volume since the child doesn't know the meaning of "whisper."

"Mm-hmm," I said quietly, without opening my eyes, hoping he'd get the point.

"Well, scoot over then," he demanded.

I don't think he understands. We have a queen-sized bed - which is laughable because no queen would consent to sleeping on such a small mattress (not even a drag queen, probably, if he's anywhere near regular man-size). You put in Curtis, who is 6'3"; myself, wide enough for three people at the moment; and Cameron, who sleeps sideways - and generally our two cats, Thurman and Ava - and it makes for cramped quarters. I inched over as far as I could, smushing poor Cameron into his sleeping father's armpit, and Colin climbed in. With a book, entitled Mommy Loves Me.

"I brought this book in case you love me," he said sweetly. I patted his head, still trying to keep the interaction to a minimum, because I knew if we talked too much he'd never go back to sleep.
He settled for a minute, but then came the next request: "I need more pillow." So I offered him the lion's share of mine, resting my head on a teeny corner. Of course, even that wasn't good enough.

"My own pillow."

Luckily I've been sleeping with a couch pillow between my knees to soothe my aching back, so I whipped it out and presented it to him. He spent about two minutes fluffing it, arranging the sheets and comforter, and just generally fidgeting.

"Do you mind if I take my underwear off?" he asked.

"No, go ahead," I whispered. This is the child who would be naked 24-7 if he were allowed, and besides, I understand the need to air out the goods once in a while. So he took it off and threw it on the floor beside the bed. All was quiet.

Then: "My peeeeniiiiis!"

I nearly jumped out of my skin. "What's wrong with it?" I hissed, heart pounding.

"It's waggling all around!"

Um, okay? What do I say to that one? "It's a penis - that's what they do," I responded finally. Miraculously, he seemed satisfied with that explanation, and was still and quiet again.

That's when my hips started to ache. And my bladder was practically screaming, "I'm full! Get your lazy ass up and pee!" But I was sandwiched between Cameron, who was still asleep, and Colin, who was soon going to be the same way (I hoped). There was no way I could possibly get out of bed without disturbing anyone. I would just have to deal with it.

Then Curtis started to snore. Not just a soft rumble, but this weird buzzing inhalation followed by a click. I cannot stand snoring, especially when I'm trying to drift off to sleep (as if I weren't already having difficulty, what with the full bladder and the sore hips). But if I made a move to poke or shake him, I ran the risk that "crack-of-dawn Colin" would take that as a let's-get-up gesture.

So I laid there, becoming increasingly annoyed. I hate the sound of snoring. And I was hot, which always seems to escalate any sort of irritation. Finally I decided to sneak my hand from beneath the covers and give Curtis a gentle shake. Sometimes that works. Unfortunately, this wasn't one of those times; he was sleeping like a rock.

In the process of trying to get him to stop snoring, I stirred Cameron, who let out a fuss, which made Colin pop up like a Jack-in-the-box. "Cameron's awake!" he announced.

Which is why I was out of bed before six this morning, fulfilling requests for omelets and chocolate milk through half-closed eyes.

Oh well, at least I finally got to pee.