Wake-Up calls.

This morning, at 4:13 a.m., Thing 2 suddenly materialized by my bed.

And I say "suddenly materialized" because that's exactly how it always happens. One minute I'm sleeping away, dreaming about jogging on the beach trying to outrun a tornado with Scott Baio (the 1980's Baio, not the 2013 one), and the next my eyes fly open to find a silent 11 year old standing by the side of my bed (which never ever fails to scare the crap out of me), whispering "mommy" in a voice so small only snails can hear it. 

Or mothers.

Because isn't it true that we can hear their little feet padding on carpet, or the simple sounds of their breathing changes from two rooms away, but our husbands can sleep through coughs and sneezes, screaming night-terrors and puking (even when the puker is lying right next to him)?  

But back to last night.

Thing 2: mommy.

Me (running through the list of 36 possible reasons she'd be waking me up in the middle of the night, and taking stock of her appearance and frame of mind all in the span of about .86 seconds): What is it? Are you okay?

Thing 2: I just went downstairs for a glass of water and there's a truck parked in our driveway.

Me (wide awake now and sitting up in bed): Wait. What?

Thing 2: There's a truck in our driveway.

Me (pounding Husband on the head): THERE'S A TRUCK PARKED IN OUR DRIVEWAY! THERE'S A TRUCK PARKED IN OUR DRIVEWAY! WE DON'T HAVE A TRUCK!!

Husband dutifully trots down the stairs and from up in the loft I see headlights sweep across the front windows. Ho-Ly Crap. There was a truck in our driveway.

Husband (plodding slowly back up the stairs): It was the snowplow.

Oh. 

Of course.

4:13 a.m. is a fine time to plow people out, what with them not needing to actually get out of their garages for another oh, three hours or so.  

He's back. Just thought you'd like to see what she saw at 4 a.m.

So after Thing 2, bless her heart, apologized for waking us up needlessly (to which I responded, No no...BIG difference between seeing vehicles parked in our driveway at 4 a.m. and the fact that your blankets are tangled in an uncomfortable manner around your feet), I started thinking - which at 4:14 a.m. is really a futile thing to do. But since I couldn't recreate the beach scene with Baio no matter how hard I tried, and because frankly that tornado had been scaring the crap out of me since about 3:30, my mind automatically started formulating a list of the ways you get woken up in the middle of the night once you have kids (which is far different from the ways you get woken up in the middle of the night when you do not).

Of course, since it was 4:15 a.m. I've completely forgotten most of them, which, as usual, I'd sworn to myself I would not, but here's a short version:

Things you hear but cannot see:

coughing

sneezing

wheezing

sniffling

snoring

snorting

talking

tossing

turning

laughing

crying

screaming

moaning

groaning

howling

sighing

puking

and playing

and then there's the Things they come to tell you:

"I have a tummy ache."

"I have a headache."

"I'm thirsty."

"I can't sleep."

"I peed in my bed."

"I'm hot."

"I'm cold."

"I heard a noise."

"I'm scared."

"I'm not sleepy."

"Something smells weird."

and the always terrifying, "There's a truck parked in our driveway."

And no matter how old your kids get, I think as Mamas we'll always be in tune to their levels of sound, no matter how small, especially when it pertains to middle of the night wake up calls. 

Funny, though, how I can sleep right through my husband's attempts at the same. 

Guess that poor sucker's on an entirely different frequency.

Whenever you laugh and like what you see, won't you take a moment and vote for me?