Never Wake a Sleeping Mom

I’m tired.

I’ve been tired since 1985—the year my life changed forever (and not because singing We Are the World made my heart swell and brought tears to my eyes).

You see, this was the year I became a mom. The first of my nine children made his grand entrance into the world…hungry.  Each night, with his initial whimpers pulling me from a peaceful sleep, I prayed (and sometimes pleaded with God), to please help my little guy fall back asleep.

He never did.

So, for the next two decades (because those little babies with their hungry little whimpers kept coming and coming), I spent a good chunk of my nights awake with baby “plugged in” (a.k.a. breastfeeding).

But that’s not what this post is about.

I learned to deal with those middle-of-the-night breastfeeding sessions as well as the many other middle-of-the-night shenanigans that accompany the care of a baby. I’ve also learned to deal (for the most part) with waking up for a sick child…unless it involves cleaning vomit—ug! Never ready for vomit duty! It’s either all over their bedding or strategically hurled onto the carpet in front of the bathroom (um, yeah…that’s what that stain is).

But that’s not what this post is about either (sorry, hope I didn’t lose you there on the hurling thing).

This post is about the fact that I’m tired. Not only am I knocking on the door of the big five-zero next year (can you say, night sweats, hot flashes, and I’ll take my diet-Coke in an IV drip if necessary, please?), but I work full-time outside the house…on my feet…ten hour days…five days a week.

But that’s not what this post is about either. We are, however, getting closer.

You see, now that I have a full house of teens and pre-teens (3 teens + 2 pre-teens = a full house in that great poker hand of life), one would think that I might finally get a good night’s sleep. That would be a negative. For some reason this group of teens and pre-teens have stumbled upon this crazy notion that since it’s summertime, after their dad and I fall into bed, exhausted after a full day’s work, nighttime is now their playground.

Oh, they’ve heard all the warnings…

“Don’t wake me up unless someone is bleeding!”

“If I get woken up, y’all are grounded until you’re 52.”

And the least effective: “Wake me up and you’re toast—burnt-to-a-crisp toast!”

Needless to say, the figurative stench of burnt toast permeated throughout the entire house this morning. Yup, it was a rough night last night and this morning, this momma was a bear. Let’s just say you wouldn’t have wanted to be my cub today.

Am I the only parent apparently raising some sort of non-blood-sucking breed of vampires? Is anyone else experiencing this? Does anyone have a suggestion?

Well, here’s my suggestion to myself: Momma needs to pull up some Momma Pants and send those vampire cubs to bed.

Self-scolding complete.

Goodnight…I hope.

Tamra Torero is wife to Paco, Momma to nine, Grandma of two, Blogger, Bakery Manager, and Author of Shayla Witherwood: A Half-Faerie Tale and co-author of a Christmas novel, The Lost Son with her oldest son, Preston Norton. In a word, she's tired! Feel free to share this blog if you enjoyed it!