A house at 2am should be quiet unless of course you are 20 years old and hosting a wild kegger for your closest 100 friends. But a home with a family in the middle of the night should be somewhat peaceful right? Maybe a drip drop of a leaky faucet, or the far off whistle of a train, but there should be a general lack of noise that promotes happy sleeping.
Nah. Not at my house. At my house it sounds something more like this.
2am. I am lying wide awake listening to two members of my family snoring loudly. The louder of the two is not the grown man sleeping next to me, but the 24 pound toddler in his crib. The kid is making noises with his nose that shouldn't be possible at two years old. In addition to the snoring there is a whining whimpering noise beckoning me back to the side of my four year old's bed for the third time that night. "What is wrong?" I demand, hands on hips, feeling a serious lack of empathy. "I don't know!" I am told by the crabby child as he turns abruptly away from me and pulls the covers over his head. Well fine. Back to my room where I can lie by the side of Sir-Snores-A lot.
Now in bed again, I am overcome with the a loud ruckus of Bascom on a barking terror for which I am half thankful for (perhaps she is actually scaring a burglar away), but mostly annoyed about (more than likely she is barking at squirrel that caught her eye). Adding insult to injury I am also now lying under the weight of two purring cats across my back that feel like a vibrating electric blanket in August. I start to sweat. I don't have the heart to push them off.
As I lie there sweating and listening to the snoring, whimpering, purring soundtrack of my life I wonder, will I ever really sleep again?