Things That Go "AAAAAAAAH" In The Night

Confession: I am sleep deprived. It's a combination of keeping up with a toddler, being a night owl, liking television way too much, volunteering to cook for large crowds of people, plus, of course, blogging. Lots of blogging. Not to mention working.

Last night I actually decided to forego Project Runway and get in the bed. I made it about halfway through an article in Vanity Fair and I was out. Dead to the world.

You can imagine my delight when, around 12:30, I was awakened by loud, high-pitched screaming coming from the baby monitor. Not crying, not whimpering, not whining - SCREAMING. I ran upstairs to check on the little man, and he was sitting up in bed, obviously recovering from a bad dream. And seriously (I actually asked Bubba this question when we were on the phone this AM), what do toddlers dream about? What would terrify A. to the point of screaming? That Blue from Blue's Clues suddenly turns red? That someone throws a Veggie Tale character into hot water? That the Cheetos decide to bite back? What's running through that little mind of his?

I climbed in bed with Alex for either 2 minutes or 2 hours - I have no idea what time it was when I finally stumbled back downstairs. What I do know is that it was exactly 3:47 in the AM when the screaming started again. And once more I would like to clarify that it was not crying, whimpering, or whining, all of which I can ignore - it was an OH SWEET MERCY, THE MONSTERS, THEY ARE AFTER ME screaming extravaganza.

Back upstairs I went. Did I mention that it was 3:47 in the AM? Did I mention that I had very mean, angry thoughts, and that none of those thoughts involved, "Oh, I hope Alex is okay"? Because there is a point in my sleeping cycle where I am ALL ABOUT THE SLEEP, and 3:47 in the AM seems to be a critical time in the ALL ABOUT THE SLEEP spectrum. I was not happy.

For the second screaming go-round, I took Alex out of his bed, walked down the hall into another bedroom, plopped gently laid him in the center of the bed and climbed under the covers with him. After he had the nerve to request a BOOK that he had carried to bed with him earlier (this one, just for the record), he went straight back to sleep. I, however, did not.

I tossed...and turned...and tossed...and turned...then I decided that maybe God wanted me awake so I could pray, so I prayed...and pondered...then contemplated just getting up and starting the day at 4:30...then thought better of it...then I rehashed a conversation I had with a friend yesterday...then I thought about all the chicken in my freezer that I have to cook tonight (21 pounds, to be exact)...but the sleep, it did elude me.

So I am, as we like to say in our family, knocked. Tuckered. Tired. There is a nap in my near future, and I am deliberately ignoring the computer for the rest of the day because unless I turn it off altogether, the glow of the little white apple will beckon me and bid me to sit down and blog for awhile. But Mama here needs some sleep. And some Boo time. And I gots LOTS of cooking to do.

See y'all tomorrow.