Glad It's Tuesday

Today I'm feeling rested. Really rested. Almost as if I'd slept through the night. I didn't, but I got mighty close.

Even though we don't have a tiny baby in our home, we have sleep issues and a geriatric basset hound. Even if I let her out before I go to bed, say 11-ish, she still whines to go out by 3. It's often just a quick trip down the stairs for me. I let her out the back door, she does her thing and then we're both back to bed like the lazy, sleep worshipers we are. By the way, the stars are amazing at 3 AM.

Yes, there is a little envy there. Or maybe some jealousy. I mean, really, who wouldn't want the life of an older, well loved dog in a house full of kids. They pet you and walk you. There's food a plenty dropping down from the sky, provided you master the fine art of sleeping under a high chair and you can get away with spending most of your day asleep on the sofa in the sun. I could sure enjoy a day sleeping on the sofa in the sunshine. I wouldn't necessarily mind some food dropping down from the sky either, provided it was chocolate.

It's the sleep I envy the most. Really. I find my normal night is sleeping from about 11 to 3-ish. Then it's up to let the dog out. That wakes up Little Miss. She is perhaps the lighest sleeper in the world. The yammering out of her wakes Little One. Although sometimes, it goes the other way around. He will wake up if he has lost his pacifier and wiggled out from under his blankets. Either way, it usually means that I'm getting up every half hour or so from 3 on. 3 take the dog out. 3:30 put a kid back to sleep. 4 put the other kid back to sleep. 4:30 another round with kid #1. 5 the dog wants out again and she wants her breakfast. 5:30 The Mr. gets up. 6 my alarm goes off. For what? I don't know. By 6:30 the whole crew is up, eating, fighting, showering, reading the paper, desperately seeking coffee...oh, wait, that's just me.

Two days ago, I had hit my wall. The snappish momma was on the prowl. Turning off the water to the shower I could already hear Little One crying, Princess hollaring and The Little Mr.'s fighting. I went in to get Little One out of his bed and as I'm working at getting him ready for the day, Princess turns around and pukes on my feet. A whole glass of milk.

Before I've had a cup of coffee.

That's no way to start a Monday.