I have been desperately trying to retire to bed before 11 p.m., but to no avail.
I recently made it to bed at 11:30 (grateful to get to still call it 'today') and awoke at 3:30 a.m. to my crying, cuddly little chubb, Mr. Binks. I can't help but smile ~ even at 3:30.
Sometimes it's pretty difficult for me to go back to sleep and I lay with my eyes closed while my brain spins a mile a minute.
Such was this particular night and by 5:30 I decided I had just wasted two hours stressing over the condition of our home and should just get up and do something about it.
I popped out my beloved earplugs and threw back the covers.
"What in the world? Our cat must be going crazy downstairs!"
(By the way ~ cats do that when you run out of cat food. Don't worry. She's been fed now.)
Or maybe it wasn't the cat. Some of you may remember THIS POST and will recall that I don't take too kindly to strange sounds coming from downstairs. Sounds which make me wake up to my husband loading his gun. He was still
snoring sleeping soundly so I knew that must not be the case this time.
As I came out of room I could see that there were lights on downstairs. My immediate thought was "If those boys got up in the wee hours of the morn to play video games... so help me I'm going to... "
I rounded the corner ready to begin my rant about video games rotting their brains, and how they could be spending their time on more productive things, and yadda-yadda-yadda ~ there were my boys...
.... with broom and dustpan in hand.
These young men had set their alarm for 4am in order to surprise their mother with a completely clean house.
Was it Mother's Day? My birthday?
No. Just two thoughtful boys.