Never wake a sleeping bear

I've been accused of being too "sunshiney" in the mornings by former coworkers. In fact it downright irritated some (hi Tricia). I tease Marty about his inability to communicate in the mornings and his disdain for light sources during his sleep cycle or early waking.

And I've been able to wake pretty much instantaneously. Maybe from working odd shifts/hours for so long. Shoot, I would be at work by 5 a.m. on my last shift so I could pad downstairs and have the computers fired up and headphones on without much more than a blink of an eye.

But now . . . I need my sleep. Six hours is necessary and anything less is putting my body in touch with my own "inner bear" to be dealt with. Apparently they did not tell my Ethiopian-born sons that you do not wake a sleeping bear.

I know I could head to bed shortly after they do, but that is MY TIME to straighten, wash/shower, mop, dust, correspond, maybe even (gasp) watch a TV show, unwind, read my Bible or current study lesson, etc. I often am too wound up mentally to simply drop it at that point.

So it is often 11-midnight when I climb under the covers with Marty. Its funny that we used to have those phone conversations that extended into the wee hours when we were long-distance in our relationship and I used to yearn to be able to see him during these. Hehe - now we may begin a conversation in earnest but once we are horizontal there is the distinct possibility that one of us will fade into oblivion quickly.

I used to be able to do without sleep or get by on so very little sleep. Shoot, I simply cannot anymore. Maybe all the years of single-parenting with two jobs and late night calls to Marty took their toll. Maybe its age. Regardless . . . I NEED SLEEP.

So when I waken to LOUD chatter and boys flying off the top bunk onto the floor, the staccato laughter of Samuel, a horrid thump-thumping which ends up being the guys yanking on the antique dresser drawer that has become whompy-jawed in their efforts . . . I AM NOT HAPPY. It is not yet 6 a.m. I head to their room and find the boys mid dresser assault and Mary is perched on the top bunk with her head propped in her hands I let them know in no uncertain terms that the behavior is not considered acceptable and I do not appreciate the early hour or the assault. I climb BACK in bed. And I hear giggles. Then the laughter. The volume picks up. The chatter continues. Jumping ensues. I am facing Marty in bed (he's on his back) and I actually have my back to the bedroom door. I snap.

"HUSH" I scream. It quietens down.

And picks right back up. I hear Julia begin to stir and I am now transformed into ANGRY Mama bear.

I get back to the boys' room and tell them how I feel about this intrusion and shut the door with a resounding slam.

I climb back into bed and there is a familiar shake to the bed. Marty is giggling at me . . .

He asks if I should further yell from our bed could I please at least turn my head? Julia plods in our room. The alarm goes off and the children snicker from the room next door.

At least my less than desirable reaction has a positive effect on my usually slower-to-be-happy in the morning husband. He shakes his head at me and chides me good-naturedly. I have to see the humor.

When I finally rise the boys are already outside and I hear the bicycles whizzing on the driveway that wraps around the house. I head to the laundry and am removing the load from the dryer when Paul steps in the house.

"HUSH!" he exclaims upon seeing me standing there as he races to me with outstretched arms and a waiting smile, hug, and kiss.

Ahhh, they may not have learned not to wake a sleeping bear - but then again - they have all the tools necessary to tame it once it does.