Ah, the mystery of sleep. I remember when I would stay in my college dorm for the weekend; I would go to sleep Friday night and have the ability to sleep almost 20 hours…consecutively. That’s right, I did say consecutively, in a row, without being disturbed by the noisy city streets, anyone walking in and out of my room or even my bladder. I look back on those days now and wonder how that was humanly possible. These days, people take melatonin, Advil PM, Ambien…anything that can help them sleep through the night. (Some might take all three, but never at the same time.) There is a whole sleep-aid product aisle, so at least I know it isn’t just me.
It seems that the minute I gave birth, my quest for a complete night’s rest has eluded me. First those cute little suckers try to trick you because they sleep so soundly and peacefully when they are still in the hospital. Perhaps they know to do this so you will take them home. But, then, you are home and any little noise would have me go running into their rooms to make sure they were okay. Then we would get into a great pattern when they would sleep for a few hours, for a few nights in a row, and I would make the mistake of bragging “my baby sleeps through the night.” No, he doesn’t anymore because you said it out loud. And back we would go to the hourly wake up calls, while husband #1 slept peacefully beside me.
And then, in the blink of an eye, your kids have the ability to go to sleep on their own (usually several hours after you do) and wake up on their own. Oh wait, that is where I discovered I am wrong (and I don’t admit to being wrong very often). They don’t wake up on their own. I have to wake them up. I know there are mothers out there who do not believe in this. These mothers believe that their children need to be responsible and fend for themselves in the morning. To those mothers I say kudos to you. But as for me, the mother of only sons, I say, and I have said this before, I need to do everything I can to make sure they don’t put me away in a nursing home, never to be seen again.
Basically, I have become an alarm clock, and like the old-fashioned alarm clocks of days gone by, I, too, am round, have two arms, and make a loud annoying sound. It isn’t always a ringing sound though. And I do not have two metal buttons on top of my head that my kids (or husband) can smash to stop the annoying noise. One of my kids puts in a wake-up time request the night before (the son who is hard at work being a senior in high school). So I can be thought of as a concierge of sorts (along with wake-up time come breakfast orders and “when can I have the car?”). As for the other two, who still have school, sometimes it gets a little messy (specifically with son #2). “It’s 7:05, please get up sweetie.” No response. “If you can hear me, wiggle your toes.” No response. “It’s 7:08, please get up.” No response. “If you can hear me, make a noise.” No response. Then I up the volume, “It’s 7:15, carpool will be here in 15 minutes (give or take, depending on who is driving). Get out of bed right now or I am making you walk to school!!! (Which, of course, he knows will never happen because of the whole nursing home thing.) This continues in two-minute intervals until he gets out of bed. Annoying, right? OMG yes, I am so annoying in the morning. “Why do you have to keep announcing the time?” My adorable teenage son grunts aloud. But what is the alternative? Alarm clocks are supposed to be annoying or they would be called something else. But how many alarm clocks make you snacks and tell you that they love you? How many alarm clocks embarrass their sons by writing articles about them? Guess I am ending up in that nursing home anyway….
By Banji Latkin Ganchrow
