Black Coffee in Bed

I had a bit of a hard time falling asleep last night; that often happens to me when I know I have to get up early.  You know that feeling...when you snuggle into bed, look at the clock and think, oh crap.  If I fall asleep right now I'll only get seven hours of sleep.

And it goes downhill from there.  I lie awake and as the minutes tick by I continue to calculate how much sleep I'll get if I fell asleep right now.  Six hours forty-five minutes, six and a half hours, six hours fifteen minutes...

I need a lot of sleep.  I always have.  My husband can pop out of bed and zip to the kitchen, putz around, make coffee, all while whistling happily that another day has started.

Me?  When the light of morning hits my eyes and I realized that I'm beginning to wake up, I groan, fight it, burrow down deeper and try to slip back into my last dream.  Sometimes it works, and I can pick up right where I left off, as if I had cracked open the book I was reading and started the next chapter.

Usually not, though.  Generally when I start to wake up, I have no choice.  My cats seem to sense that I'm waking and the start walking all over me, purring and bamming their heads against mine for attention.  

My M.O. for over a decade now has been to loll in bed (barring those months with newborns)(well, even then sometimes)(okay, usually then, too) while I wait for my hubby to bring me a steaming mug of black coffee.  Once the aroma hits me, I start to get the wherewithall to get my morning started.

In the past couple of weeks, however, my son has been the one to "surprise" me with my cup of coffee.  Each time, I marvel...how did my little boy get to be big enough to carry hot liquids up a set of stairs?

Thing is, he isn't little.  He's ten.  As of today.  The double digits.

Honestly, that's part of the reason I had a hard time falling asleep last night.  Not only was I counting down the hours I had left to sleep, I was also calculating the number of hours it was until the hour of my son's birth the following morning.

Twelve hours, eleven and a half hours, eleven hours...


  1. Oh I don't think I will handle ten very well. I will probably handle it twice as bad as I have handled five. I might handle it a bit better if coffee delivery is involved.

    I do the same thing about counting down the hours and then stressing as the numbers get lower and lower...ya that doesn't help.

  2. You were totally in my head until you got to the part where you get your coffee delivered to you every morning! No fair! The closest I'm going to get is to go download the song using my hubby itunes account ;)

  3. I feel you pain. My just turned 11. They grow up so fast.

  4. Anonymous8:35 PM

    You should share the secret in how to train 10 year olds to deliver coffee! Sounds like a great segue from dreams to reality. :)

    My Eachday site

  5. 10 was very hard, but I am looking at 13 in the face. I remember turning 13 and being a new teenager, how do I have a child that old???

  6. Funny!

    My oldest turned 11 on the 12th. The kid has finally been allowed to cross the street without us hovering over him!

    But, before his 20th birthday, I do not believe I would ever trust him with such a delicate task as brining me coffee! Coffee should be served, ceremoniously, by maidens wearing surgical gloves accompanied by lute-playing.

    Funny...and good luck!

  7. Anonymous4:54 AM

    Mine is turning 16 in a few months. Gadzooks. It's not the age so much as sometimes she looks and seems like a complete stranger. I look at the pictures of her as a wee tyke and then look at this young woman and think "when and how did this happen?"

  8. Husbands bring you coffee in bed? Had I known that little fact I would have married years ago--decades even.

  9. I'm late, but happy birthday to the little man. Hard to believe he is now 10!!!


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