Early Morning Labor Pains

I hope you all had a wonderful Labor Day.  My Labor Day Eve was spent staying up late with my nephews, a bowl of peanut butter ice cream and a PG-13 movie with more expletives than Cael on a Thomas the Train tear.  But just as life doesn't wait for ideal circumstances, Cael does not take my tiredness into consideration.  

Ice cold fingers dug into my arm early Monday morning in what I can only guess was an experimental therapy technique as Cael pulled himself up and into our bed.  I pulled up the covers and a blast of oh-shoot-I-forgot-to-close-the-windows-and-it's-50-degrees-outside cold air curled in and around us before I tucked the blankets under his shoulders as he got into position.

"Mommy.  I have to go potty."

Why didn't he do that before he woke me up?

"Okay, go potty."

In one bound, he threw the covers off of us and I almost swore that steam radiated off of me as the cold again forced its way into the bed.  I got myself sufficiently cocooned just as the toilet flushed, the lid slammed down and icy feet this time slithered down my back.  Once Cael had wiggled his way into the bed, I reached over and retrieved the remote from my nightstand and began to put a Curious George on in the hopes that he would stay quiet enough for me to doze a little longer.  As I tried to select a DVRed episode that was walked the delicate tightrope of "recent enough that it hasn't been viewed 50 times" and "old enough that he hasn't seen it in the last few days", I noticed something surprising on the menu screen.  It was... could it be?

8:00 AM.

No way.  Not only did it not feel like eight o-clock, but it didn't look like eight o-clock and I was most certainly not ready to wake up as I would most likely be at eight o-clock.  I rolled over and looked at the alarm clock.  I didn't have my glasses on, rendering me one degree on the positive side of "blind as a bat", but I was pretty sure the alarm clock said 8:02.  Ugh.

I knew that my nephews would probably be awake and I wanted to get their breakfast going, so for the fourth time in as many minutes I pulled back my one defense from the cold and got out of bed.  I stood at the top of the stairs and listened quietly for signs of life.  I thought some about tiptoeing down there to see if they were still camped out on the mattress we'd put on the floor for them but quickly remembered the makeup-less/bra-less/morning breath-full state I was in and opted instead to get a drink and get dressed to start my day.  I took a cold swig of soda, hoping that the caffeine could start doing its "thing" and give me a boost of energy.  I closed the open windows and headed back to my room to brush my teeth when I saw my alarm clock.

6:14 AM.  I guess that blind bat just bested me.

My mind quickly flashed back to those incredibly cheesy and poorly executed episodes of "America's Funniest Home Videos" from the 80's and 90's with clips during which parents would trick their children on some Saturday morning by waking them up and convincing them they were about to be late for school.  They'd string the kid along all the way through breakfast or even to the bus stop where the son or daughter would finally be let in on the practical joke.  The family would laugh, and even if the one being tricked didn't find it so funny, they always had the unique privilege of being on television for a chance at winning $100,000!

I, on the other hand, would have handed over $100,000 in that moment if it meant that I could go back to bed.  As I headed toward my prize, I noticed that Cael was no longer hogging my side and forcing me to the edge of what was supposed to be a roomy solution for a crowded bed.  I knew that he was dying to wake up his cousins, and now knowing that it was shortly after 6 AM, I couldn't allow Cael to wake them up this early and expect to maintain my position as a fun aunt.  I intercepted him just as he was ready to jump on the mattress and lured him back up the stairs with promises of Monsters, Inc and Toy Story and Shrek--oh, my!

Once locked and loaded back into our icebox of a bed, I tuned the television to Shrek and closed my eyes.  Over the next several minutes I willed myself to go back to sleep, often getting close but not being able to fall completely for one reason.  I had to pee. 

Sleeping with a full bladder is the worst and is not restful at all.  Having endured to pregnancies, I knew this truth and threw back the covers with a huff and shuffled into the bathroom.  I left the lights off, hoping that I would be able to slide back into bed and drift quickly to sleep after relieving myself.  I knew that it would only--

--Suddenly the lights were on, the door burst open and Cael was talking at me with a voice as loud as any he's used.

"Mommy, why you don't have nuts?"

"Oh, Cael.  Mommy is SO tired.  Can we talk about it later?"

"You don't have a penis either?"  (What... is 6:33 too early for discussions about genitalia in your home?)

"No, Cael.  Girls don't have those parts."

"What do you have?"

Maybe at seven o-clock I would have told him.  Definitely at nine.  But 6:34 AM my brain was too tired and too slow to explain it to my son in a way that would make the information sound boring enough that he wouldn't repeat it the next day at his first day of preschool.

"Oh, Cael, look!  Shrek and the donkey are going to rescue Fiona."

"Ooh!"

With the no-penis crisis averted, the windows closed and feeling returning to my feet, the nephews unbothered downstairs and Cael firmly planted at the foot of my bed, I climbed back into my bed.  I pulled Cael close to me, ready to close my eyes and catch a few more winks before starting my much anticipated day off.  Until Graham's baby monitor started lighting up and a little voice began talking.

"Mama.  Mama!  Buh poo!"

Hoping you all had a restful Labor Day.  And no "buh poo".