Sleeping in . . .

It sounds almost decadent.

The luxurious choice to stay in bed, enshrouded by sheets and blanket with a pillow tucked just the right way beneath the head and the sleep number adjusted to the perfect setting.

Alas, it was not to be.

While I never have been the type to sleep in until noon (frankly, that makes my back hurt), I think it would be nice to ignore the alarm once in a while and get up when I choose to open my eyes.

However, my life is blessed by early risers on any day that I am not supposed to have anywhere to go or anything outside of the house to do.

Habitually, I wake just prior to my alarm going off every morning - yeah, I know, it's an affliction. But I harbor the secret fear that I will be late and that is something that truly irks me to the core of my being.

While I never set out as a carefree cotton-top little child to become so wound up about the whole issue of waking up early. Even if I have been out hooting with the hoot owls for some fun at night, I still get up on time.

But once in a great while, I anticipate that I could catch up on a few winks which might add a bit of fuel to my tank which normally is so empty even the fumes are long gone.

Saturdays are the acceptable day to wear plaid pajama pants, sleep past the normal time and catch those elusive "Zzzzz's" that are hard to come by most of the time.

Oddly, the Sleeping Prince (aka Jared), who normally SLEEPS through being dressed and prepared for his school day, wakes at the crack of dawn to ensure that any chance of sleeping in are far removed. Compound that with the fact that getting him to go to sleep while Daddy is out with the scouts and sleep becomes a pleasant memory.

Zombie-like, I rise and prepare him breakfast and watch him drift into a somnambulant state before sleep overtakes him. But now, dang it, I am AWAKE.

Should I choose to go back to sleep, it will be at a price. The reality of stuffing myself back into the covers means that the phone will begin to ring.

Not just one phone call - oh no! Everyone will suddenly develop some sort of wild attachment to me and to my opinions, advice and counsel in a psychotic bond that prevents sleep as surely as the sun rises.

These kind people who call are not normally concerned about what I think or how it might affect their lives. They function in day-to-day society without handholding or head patting. But come Saturday morning, some sort of personal irresponsibility gene kicks into overdrive compelling them to call and consult with me on a variety of topics which could not wait until after 11:30.

Why?

They could FEEL the vibes.

They knew I was sleeping in. Or at least that I had hoped to.

Which is apparently now one of the 'thou shalt not' passages of the Bible I missed out on during reading time.

Oddly enough, these same people can often be found sleeping in.

WHAT THE HECK?!??!?!!

How come YOU get to languish beneath the covers and drift in and out of consciousness while I am condemned to be awake?

My only hope is to catch a brief nap later on. 40 winks or even 20.

But the Sleeping Prince isn't sleeping - yet. He is in that talkative, cooing and babbling gear that compells him to be drowsily engaged like a motor that just won't turn completely over. He sounds a lot like an old Chevy with a bad crankshaft. Rrrrr - rrrrr - rrrrr.

And because he KNOWS regularity on the rrrr babbling cycle would act as a sleep aid, Jared willingly varies the pitch, intensity and inflection of the rrrr just enough to make me stay on the knife edge of alertness.

People wonder why women look so old in their pictures by the time they hit their 40's bearing bags under their eyes that could be employed in a pinch to carry home a week's worth of groceries.

Yawning and rrrr-ing his way through the morning news, I am not fooled by Jared's antics. I have already seen them. This is merely an encore presentation. He will stay in this gear until no possibility of sleep remains for me, then promptly fall asleep himself. The only reason he will go back to sleep is because he doesn't have school today and he is bored.

To add icing on the cake, my sweet husband left his alarm on for me so that I wouldn't be tempted to sleep in while he was gone. I can guarantee that the scouts didn't get up for reveille. They languished in their tents and sleeping bags until well past 7 and perhaps even past 8. After all scouts on a campout need not adhere to a strict schedule.

Those are for people at home who have to do laundry and mop the bathroom floor.

Right on cue, the Sleeping Prince has just started to snore lightly as he is drifting back to sleep. Once he is down in full REM mode, he will be good until about 11 or so.

The good news is, I have the first load of laundry almost done and I'll be finished with the bathroom floors pretty soon.

Here's hoping YOU got to sleep in, 'cause honey, you look like you need it.

Nitey-night!