Last night, around 4am, I was startled out of a deep sleep by my nine year old son. He was immediately apologetic, whispering "I'm sorry I'm waking you up mom..." (he's a good egg). He mumbled a few more sentences, and I assumed he wanted to get into our bed. I waved him in, and rolled over to continue my slumber.
Let me first explain his immediate and sincere apology. With four children I sing to the heavens if, upon awaking, I realize I slept the whole night. Meaning no one wandered over to our room complaining of an ailment, a bad dream, or a strange noise. After an extremely exhausting stretch of sometimes two to three wakings in one night, I put my foot down. The only person sleeping the whole night was my (at the time) 9 month old!
I calmly explained to all my munchkins that a rested mommy is a happy mommy. I understand if they have an emergency, such projectile vomiting all over their bed (and in those cases please wake Dad). But unless it is a dire emergency, I do not want any middle of the night, "uh mom?" shakes. Not happening.
Which takes me back to this lovely morning, when my Sports Fanatic again apologized for awakening me in the middle of the night. I told him repeatedly it was alright. After all, he is not a repeat offender (LLG and the Gymnastic Queen are another story).
Hubby then surfaced, and asked me if I remembered WHY our nine year old son wanted to sleep in our bed last night. I didn't remember anything other than my desire for more sleep.
Hubby looked at me, straight faced, and told me what I can't believe I missed.
"I'm scared. I hear music downstairs. I think someone broke in and started a band."
At least it was different from the norm. No bad dreams, no upset tummy. But a genuine fear of a band rockin' out downstairs. That is awesome.