Sleep Interruptus

In this story, sleep interruptus. I’m Joanne Greene.
When I opened my eyes, I noticed that I was in a very comfortable bed, my son’s bed, that is my son and his wife’s bed, the fourth bed I’d slept in that night. This nighttime bed hopping is part of my role as grandma. Yoyo, they call me. It’s a moniker first shared by my great nephew, now 25 years old. 
The night began with a reading of Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile, a classic story that teaches acceptance of differences, kindness, tolerance, and flexibility, with a healthy dose of humor. Axel was a very tired four-year old, after a day at the STEAM festival, operating a flight simulator, drilling with safety goggles, building a small wiggle bott, assembling a light switch, reading books at the library, and completing a transportation puzzle. I lied next to him in his bed until his steady breathing let me know that he was, in fact, asleep. Then I snuck out of the room for a break until I would be inevitably called to do the same with his older sister, Lisette, once her aunt said goodnight after listening to her read Shel Silverstein poems. Predictably, she requested that Yoyo come up and stay with her for a while.
After watching the final quarter in which the Warriors won their playoff game, I got into bed to read. Ten minutes later, I was fast asleep. And it’s a good thing because, an hour later, Axel arrived to join me in bed. He fell back to sleep; I did not. When Fred arrived, he was shocked to see a sleeping child and kindly agreed to carry him back up to his own bed. Finally, sleep returned for me. But not for long. When Lisette arrived and shook my arm, I startled. 
“Why do you always jump when I wake you up?” she asked. Apparently, her parents are so accustomed to being awakened this way that they just open their eyes. She crawled into bed between us but then reported that she felt squished. And so, I walked her back upstairs and, in hopes of returning to sleep as quickly as possible, I got into her bed. But she was coughing intermittently, and squirming around, and it was both too light in her room due to the projected stars on the walls and ceiling, and too warm for me. And so, when she calmed down enough for me to escape, I did.
Returning to my original bed felt great, until Fred started snoring, and then cracked his knuckles. I hate the sound of cracking knuckles. And then I felt sorry for myself, wanting only some peace and quiet. I tapped him on the arm and said that I was going up to our son’s room and hoped to sleep in. And, by that I meant that I’d like not to be disturbed, at least for the first morning shift.
About an hour later, I heard the pitter pat of little feet. The door to my son’s bedroom, my temporary sanctuary, was opened and closed. Loudly. Axel then went downstairs to sleep with Grandpa, after hearing why Yoyo wasn’t in the bed.
I awoke at 6:58am, which may sound early but, in fact, was a relatively civilized time to arise when in charge of the littles. I stumbled downstairs in search of coffee, a veritable lifeline, and began making their breakfasts. How is it that I love everything about this so much. I can sleep next week when we’re home. Or maybe even here tonight, when their parents will be the first line of defense. Sleep, for the most part, is overrated.

Joanne’s book, “By Accident: A Memoir of Letting Go” is now available from your favorite online book seller. Stay tuned to hear if Joanne will be speaking at a bookstore near you. If you’re interested in having her come to your local bookstore, contact her directly at [e-mail] or get updates on her website at joanne-greene.com and make sure to sign up for her newsletter!