I am NOT a morning person. My ideal wake-up is when my body does it for me. My God, that's damn near orgasmic just THINKING about it ...

But, when you have a kid, you get to wake up at all hours. You are always on-call. You sleep with one ear open. A few weeks ago, I was in a dead sleep, fan on, completely out, and woke up hearing a faint, but yet forceful scream coming from down the hall. It's impossible to ever really sleep, these days. It's a far cry from the 'up every two hours' that I used to endure with my son as a small baby. Oh my God, it was horrible. I believe my husband once said, "He is only a few weeks old but he has us on our KNEES!".

My husband does okay with 5-6 hours of sleep during the week. He left the house yesterday morning bright and early and didn't get home until after 11:30. And today, he was out of the house before 7. I would have been dead for sure.

Which brings me to yesterday.

My husband (HDH) gets up early on Tuesday morning's. (like 5:15 - early ... and seriously, when will I remember to go sleep in the other room on Monday nights??). Our son doesn't usually rouse until 6:45-7:00.

Yesterday morning, my husband gets up and starts doing things in the kitchen. Namingly, he begins to wash our dishes. (Because I was dead ass tired the night before, I put them off until the next day.) He was helping me out by doing them, but he was banging around and woke HDToddler up - around 5:45.

The following things went through my head: Oh. My. No. Kill. Kill. Please. God. No. Kill. Death. Murder. Oh. Hell.

I stumble into the bedroom to find my son, wide awake, talking about his daddy and all sorts of, "Look, Mom. I'm up! I'm awake! Yahoo!" My husband slinks out the door, apologetically, and I shoot laser beams into his body with my eyes.

The following is the exchange that took place later in the day (and by later, I mean, like, 10:30, because really, that stretch was a damn eternity. We'd already been to the store, had a massive melt-down - and that was just ME):

Him: So, sorry about waking up HDT so early.

Me (trying to be a big girl about it): It's okay. I know trying to help with the dishes.

Him: You know, you aren't any fun when you're sleep-deprived.

Me: And who do you know that is?

Him: I'm just saying. I'm tired ALL the time. But you? You are are fucking drag when you're tired. No sex. No watching movies. No nothing.

Me: Well for fuck's sake. You woke our kid up!! Early! You don't think we can hear what you do down there, but we hear EVERYTHING. And your ideal time to start watching a movie is at 10, and I'm already for bed by then.

Him: You know what? When you walked by the bedroom and told me he was up, you sounded just like Walter Conkrite announcing Kennedy at been shot. 'You.Have.Woken.Up.The.Child'.

Me: Well, it was better than clawing your eyes out because that was my next thought.

Yesterday was the longest day ever. My son was cranky. He was combative. He tried hitting me a lot. I lost my shit a few times. He didn't fall asleep until 1:30. And when he finally did, praise Jesus, he slept until 5:30. And while he was napping, the doorbell and phone rang 400 times and then , when I finally DID get to lay down, the damn jets in our bathtub started by themselves AGAIN an hour into my nap.

(I still swear we have a ghost. I call her Bathtub Betty, and yesterday, Betty was a dirty bitch)

Today, my son goes to day care. We're getting ready to leave for a vacation this weekend. I need to get a lot of shit done. I need to wake up and throw some toothpicks in there to keep'em open. I need to say 'shit' a few more times in this post to get my point across.

I'm having my second cup of coffee and ready (coughnotreallycough) to bring on the day.

Song In My Head: Day After Day (The Ben Taylor Band)