The other night I went to bed at a semi-decent hour (translation: before midnight).
I did something rare. I fell asleep. It was lovely.
And then #5 started screaming.
Not an 'I'm tired' cry, but a full on pissed off scream.
So I rushed, low blood pressure head spinning, across the room & down the hall to his door.
The light was on and I couldn't open the door.
#4 was yelling,
"I no Like my bed anymore!!"
I peek through the crack in the door and I can see a pile of bedding.
#4 has 2 quilts and 7 blankets and 4 pillows.
And they are all in front of his door.
And #5 is screaming, #4 is screaming about his bed.
And 4 other people are sleeping.
I turn to put some gentle hip force into the door and there before me is another child. A child who is not the right height or gender to be downstairs. I suddenly realize I am the one screaming. My heart races as I try to figure out where this child has come from. Finally my eyes adjust to the dark hall, my heart slows a bit, and the recent adrenaline rush has awaken me enough to realize this person is my child. #3 had a bad dream (about The Kratt Brothers being Zombies, a mix of his favorite show and favorite computer game) and he expects me to be at the top of my game in the middle of the night. It was 2:34am, I checked, and with a time like that, you can't forget.
I was not to the top of my game. I told him to go to bed, he said he was scared. I gave up. I smashed the door open, scooped up #5, grabbed #4 by the hand and as I walked to my bed I told #3 he could just sleep in #4's bed.
This is how the rest of my night went.