Every once in awhile, usually when the girls sleep elsewhere, I do the unthinkable. I ask Tim to sleep with Aaron, in Aaron's room. So that I can be alone. ALONE.
I choose the dates that the girls are gone simply because I will have fewer responsibilities when I awaken. So that, should I choose to sleep in, I can do so because instead of four sweet beasts to fend for, I only have two. And in order to actually sleep in, say, get up at 7 a.m. instead of 5:30 a.m., I need to oust Tim from the bed.
Why? Because the man can snore. And when I say snore, I mean SNORE. I mean freight train, Mack truck, thunder-booming snoring that wakes me up, but apparently, not the man who produces it. Even after I poke his shoulder and ask him to roll over, in an instant, he's on his back, whistling that ear-splitting cacophony.
Last night was one of those nights. I sweetly asked Tim to sleep with Aaron and drifted off to the land of slumber. The cat woke me at 5 a.m. but I rolled over, spread my arms across the empty bed, and went back to sleep until Melina woke me up again at 7:02 a.m.
It's a great weekend already, thanks to a little bit of sound sleeping.