Shark Bite, Bear Attack, and Children under Five

Because nothing without GIGANTIC teeth and FEARSOME strength compares to those little bundles of joy.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

I am a Sleep Deviant.

 The first step is acceptance, right? Or maybe that's alcoholics anonymous.

       It is not actually as bad as it one gets molested. Although Mal might prefer it that way...sorry dearest. The problem of my sleep deviancy arose when Mal and I finished up school, leaving us in the blissful days of summer. Which, while blissful, present us with a hitherto undiscovered complication- when Owen wakes up early, as he always does, it is now possible for one of us to get up with him, braving the still chilly morning, and the angry T-Rex squeaks that will soon erupt once Owen realizes that everyone else is asleep, and therefore unavailable to satisfy his need for the limelight. The other parent, on the other hand, returns to the luxurious land of sleep, with a large, and empty bed (a novel situation for any co-sleeper). For those who do not sleep with a six-foot tall male as well as a large baby, this means that I can sleep anywhere on the damn bed...this queen sized bed is my effing canvas, baby! And I intend to use it. Oh yes, I will.

      On Mal's side of the problem, there actually isn't a problem, because he chivalrously abides by the every-other-day schedule. So technically there should be harmony...Except for my recently discovered inner con artist,  and complete disregard for any moral code. Or compassion. In other words, I transform from this-

A relatively normal, caring human being, possessing a moral code as well as the ability to smile without bearing fangs,

Into this-
An angry, squash faced cat with only one ambition-I MUST HAZ SLEEEEEP. While in this phase, the gloves are off, and my semi-comatose, feline cunning is on.

         This leads to all sorts of "insidious schemes" (Mal's words) in order to avoid leaving the bed at all costs. This includes cunning deception, bullying, shameless guilt tripping, bullying AND shameless guilt tripping,  i.e "talk to my poor uterus, ass wipe!", and finally, today, I employed a new, not quite so sinister ploy. I had already utilized my previous weapons of sleep deviancy, and was faced with the dilemma of whether or not two more hours of sleep were worth selling my soul (okay, you caught me. It would SO be worth it. I just wasn't sure if Mal would go for it, especially after the uterus ploy). Instead, I brilliantly remembered that we had rented The Pacific the night before, and that he still hadn't watched it. Hence the bribe- two hours of sleep in return for a Pacific marathon without any interruption.

Ahhh, the beauty of the male need to watch explosions and on-screen bromances.

Of course, it is now almost 1 A.M. Meaning that at best, there are only about 6 more hours until the little beast will rise again...LET THE SCHEMING COMMENCE.

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