Dead- to- the- world mama

My mother has five children, the first of which was born 30 years ago. Therefore, my mother has not slept soundly, from what I understand, for approximately 10,950 nights. Why, you may ask? Because she is what they call a good, maternal type. The type whose evolutionary "mama-bear", protect- my- baby- at- all- costs drive is crazy strong. As such, she sleeps just on the edge of consciousness, ready to attack anything that could potentially harm her offspring...even if they are all of legal voting age...

My genetic code is, it would seem, somewhat skewed in this department. Before Judah burst onto the scene, I was a fairly light sleeper. When a family of raccoons moved under the roof next to our bedroom, I spent many a night, wide-eyed, waiting for a clawed fist to come through the wall and offer me a  choice piece of garbage. For the past 18 months, however, the depth of my sleep is something akin to a coma - seriously.

Last night, for the fourth night in a row, Judah woke up before eleven and wanted to party hearty. We'd been successful at coaxing him to sleep the previous three nights, but last night he outwitted us.

I brought him to our bed, as Luke was busy trying to study for a mid-term.  I snuggled Judah in, thinking he'd be drowsy in moments and we could have a blissful bonding time. Ha! 

I fell asleep almost instantly.

Judah got out of bed, flung the door open, left the room and loudly shut said door. 

I kept sleeping.

He then found daddy, who could tell from the voluminous chatter and smiles that sleep was not coming anytime soon for the little three- footer. 

I kept sleeping.

They went downstairs and proceeded to loudly make a snack of melted cheese on crackers and apple slices (no wonder the kid likes to wake up at midnight). 

I kept sleeping.

Judah then proceeded to pull several, heavy pots and pans from the cupboard, line them up on the back of the couch and dramatically push them off onto the hardwood floor. Luke, who was studying at the table next to said couch, jumped out of his skin and...

I kept sleeping.

I like to think of my dead-to-the-world sleeping as a brilliant survival technique. If I woke up for every grunt, cry, deluge of pots and pans etc.  I would officially be a zombie. Heck, I still am several days a week, and that's with an amazing partner who gets Judah and brings him to our bed EVERY time he wakes up in the night. In reality though, if Luke ever starts going on out- of -town trips without us, I'm going to have to hire a night guard. After all, you never know when raccoon with a frying pan may come to attack your children.