I am too tired to sleep.

I fell asleep in Dash’s bed again. A nightly occurrence I try desperately to avoid because it goes a little something like this:

8:15pm “Mommy, snuggle me and read us a book, please!” says Dash.
8:30pm “Mommy, sing us a song and then snuggle me more.” Says Dash.
8:45pm “Goodnight boys” says Mommy. “Sleep well, my angels. First one to go to sleep gets to pick a cartoon in the morning.”
8:46pm “But Mommy, I need a million kisses!” says Dash
8:50pm “Goodnight Mommy” says both the boys with hugs and kisses and then one more hug and then one more kiss.
8:53pm “Mommy!!! I can’t sleep!” says Dash. “Try!” says Mommy, who is now on her couch trying to grade papers. (oh let’s face it, I am on my couch waiting diligently for the silence from upstairs. The silence, I fear, will never come…)
8:55pm “Mommy! Please snuggle me! You are nice and squishy to cuddle with.” “Jeepers, thanks Dash” says Mommy. “I feel so pretty now.” “Mommy, you are like my very own Pillow Pet.” Says Dash. “Again” says Mommy, “thanks Dash”.
8:56 Mommy trudges back upstairs reluctantly with the distinct understanding of snuggling with Dash until he is asleep and then she is sleeping in her own bed. She is indignant about this and is going to stand her ground. She has work to do. She needs some mommy-time. She needs to go back to shopping on OKCupid because it’s kinda getting fun now. Five more minutes and that’s it…
9:56pm “Damn” says Mommy, as she wakes up in Dash’s bed. Nice freakin nap.

I have to remember that some day he will no longer ask for snuggles. Someday he will not want to hold my hand when he crosses the street or sit on my lap to read a book. Besides, he is too cute to say no to. He has mastered the pout with the big saucer eyes. Damn his cuteness. Oh, who am I kidding. He is my very own Pillow Pet.

So here I am. Again. Overtired and still awake. But I need to check my email first. Damn students with questions.

“Ms. Levine, is anything due tomorrow?”
“Ms. Levine, do we have to do the vocabulary?”
“Ms. Levine, do you expect me to actually read the entire chapter?”

I type the word “yes” over and over again.

So here I am thirty minutes later. Overtired but still awake. But I have to get lunches ready for school and coffee ready for the morning and the clothes laid out for the boys because if I don’t Dash will want to have a fashion show even though he wears a uniform to school. That still has yet to sink in. Each morning the kid wakes up and asks what day it is; then groans and says, “Ohhhh…I thought it was Saturday. When is Saturday again?”; and then wants to choose his outfit. Then changes his mind. Last year, this ritual became the bane of my existence. This year he has a little uniform of a white shirt and navy pants. Why in god’s name would a pre-school want their students in white shirts? We have gone through eight shirts because there is not enough bleach in the universe to get rid of pre-school stains. White shirts? Seriously?

Thirty minutes later. Overtired but still awake, texting conversations because I am too tired to speak in complete sentences now. I love that you can have an entire conversation with someone and barely use vowels. Unfortunately, sarcasm doesn’t always translate well via texting and some clarification is needed. The jokes lose some humor in the explanation.

Same thing happens with text-flirting, or rather flirxting. Things can be misconstrued. In a laughable way. Hopefully, a laughable way.

Last night I felt like I had a whole date while in my jammies with a mud mask on. It’s like I’m faux-dating. There I was flirxting away; an entire conversation filled with witty repartee and absolutely no need to shave my legs or apply lip gloss. Or even speak. I could be clever and have great banter and I was still actually able to grade papers and paint my toes red. Seriously, I can multitask better than anyone I know. Sometimes, because my bathroom is so small, I can clean the floor, talk on the phone, apply mascara and clean out the cat box. All one handed and all at the same time. I am that talented.

Okay, now I am just getting punchy.

Last but not least a shower because if I don’t do it at night, invariably Dash will wake up before my 5am alarm and demand morning snuggles. And chocolate milk. And Cheerios. And I will barely have time to apply concealer to my puffy eyes let alone shower.

Okay, shower, jammies, bed, then reading Jane Austin (teaching it soon) and that, no offense to Jane, will put me right out. Ah, sleep sounds good right now…

Crap, now I’m awake.