The Art of Getting Out of Bed A Hundred Times

One night last week my attempts at falling asleep were a complete joke.  The amount of times I actually got out of bed was beyond frustrating. What a comedy this would have been if you were to have watched this.  It all started with two giant flies buzzing around the room keeping me up. I was alone in bed since my husband sometimes falls asleep downstairs, so it was up to me to battle it out with them.

There was no way I was falling asleep with these annoying bastards alive in my room. They kept landing by my head which was also driving me insane.

I got up and grabbed a magazine and chased them across the bed, over to my nightstand, back to my windows, my mirror, and my dresser. When I came to realize I just did not possess the speed of Mr. Miyagi with my magazine, I went into the bathroom to grab a can of aerosol hairspray to end them with.

On my way out of the bathroom, I noticed the cat was crouched down and ready to pounce while staring at the bottom of the oven.

Great. I had an inkling there was a mouse under there. For the moment though, I had the flies to tackle.

Once I was back in the bedroom the hairspray did the trick and I cursed myself for not having thought of that 30 minutes ago.

I climbed back into my bed pooped. Once I lied down I remembered the cat in the kitchen and got back up again to close my door so I didn’t have to hear what might ensue later.

The bed welcomed me with the warmth and softness that you get so excited to cocoon yourself into right before you fall asleep.. Just as I was drifting off, I felt something crawling across my chest.

I clicked on the light and found it was just a tiny ant. OK, just an ant. No biggie. But where there’s one, there’s typically several more. My mind started filling with all types of scenarios involving me asleep and covered head to toe in ants.  Then it felt like there was sand from the beach by my toes. Oh crap, what if it wasn’t sand and one of the kids had eaten goldfish in our bed and now there were crumbs? What if there was a sea of ants I was falling asleep on top of? I sprang from the bed-yet again.

Ripping off the comforter and top sheet, I scoured the bed looking for the ant farm that must be there. I did not find one other creepy crawly – thank GOD.

Now I had to pee.

I opened the door and glanced at the cat. He was still assuming the about-to-tackle position. I went to the bathroom and headed back into my room to try -yet again- to fall asleep.

This time, I accidentally left my door open.

I fell asleep, but apparently not very deeply because an hour or so later I woke from a loud sound in the kitchen. My mind took a minute to wake up and process what I thought might be happening, but it was too late. Seconds after I heard the loud sound, I felt the cat jump on my bed.


I clicked on the light and there on the bed was my cat with a wriggling brown mouse hanging from his mouth. I leaped out of bed and tried to coerce my cat out of the room. This, of course, did not work.  He then let the mouse go, which thankfully was dazed and confused. It did not run far before he snatched it back up.

At that moment I picked up the cat and ran through the hallway to the  kitchen door and tossed him outside. He’s an indoor/outdoor cat-so it’s all good. Don’t worry, I didn’t just like throw an indoor cat out on the street.

I shuffled back to my bed thinking about the night’s events. Flies, an ant, and a mouse had paid the bedroom a visit-the universe was surely conspiring against the idea of a good night’s sleep.

Finally, for what felt like the hundredth time, I crawled into bed and fell asleep.

A couple hours later, I awoke to a herd of elephants coming at me.  I mean I awoke to my 7 year old stomping through his room and into mine and  bursting through my door to tell me he was hot, wide awake, he was up for the day, and wanting to hang out and chat.

Say what?

Rolling over, I searched the nightstand groggily with my eyes closed for my phone to check the time. The numbers seemed to be laughing at me as I read them: 4:45 a.m. I barked at him to get into my bed and try to calm himself and fall back to sleep.

After trying for close to an hour (trying= tossed and turned, definitely convinced me he has restless leg syndrome based on the number of times he moved his legs, mentioned every random thought that crossed his mind including the dream he just had, and how hot his bed was, and when his next playdate going to be,  etc. etc. ) I finally gave up and shouted with the rasp comparable to that of a bear who had just awoken from hibernation,

“Get a screen or watch a movie!”

Fortunately, he liked that idea and left the room and remembered to shut the door for me.

Ah, Momma can catch some winks for at least (I roll over to check the time on my phone again and it’s now 5:40) a half hour before I have to get up for work.

Curling up and stoked for that half hour and just as the sleep veil starts to set in,  I hear my bedroom door open.

Enter my 4 year old.

I lift the covers for him and he slides in and lies there quietly with his big blue eyes heavily opening then shutting, opening then shutting. I stare at him as if trying to will him back to sleep so I can just SQUEEZE in this last 30 minutes.

He says something softly and I lean in and ask him to repeat it so I can hear.

“It’s wake up time Mommy.”


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