You know... the kind where you crawl into bed way later than you should have and realize for the first time just how freezing cold you really are.
And you try to snuggle your subzero-degree-arctic-like body up next to your full-strength-thermal-heater sleeping husband's for some warmth...and he rolls the other way and remarks you should have run your hands under hot water before you came to bed.
And after about an hour, when you're finally feeling warm enough that sleep is becoming a very real possibility, you realize you have to pee.
And you try to tell your body to shut up.
But it just won't stop taunting you. Visions of gushing waterfalls and drippy faucets play through your mind until you just can't stand it anymore.
You drag yourself out of your (finally) warm spot in bed, down the stairs, and across the entire house, then back again through the house, up the stairs, and into bed.
And even though the trip couldn't have taken more than a minute, you realize that whole first hour's worth of dethawing was in vain and you now have to start the process all over.
And just when you start to feel some sort of tingling sensation in your extremities again, a certain 4-year old boy mysteriously shows up beside your bed wanting to lay next to you.
So you mercifully lift him into your bed.
You feel his snuggly body against yours. Ahhh... you are warm at last.
Your muscles begin to relax.
Then his bright eyes look tenderly into your droopy, half asleep ones and he whispers,
"I want to go back to my bed now."
So you begrudgingly drag yourself out of bed once again, tuck him in under his wonderfully warm flannel quilt and lay next to him, shivering because you have no blanket - once again shattering your difficult defrosting work.
And after trying to escape his bed several times to seek the warmth so sought after in your own bed.. at last you are successful.
You tiptoe cautiously back into your room, with it's long awaited promises of sweet slumber.
You slip the covers back, slide in between the sheets and sigh...
The warmth is finally restored. Your muscles are relaxing. Your eyelids are heavy and your breathing becomes deeper.
You await sleep like Aunt Jemima awaits warm buttered pancakes hot off the griddle.
You close your eyes and there are unicorns flying on marshmallow clouds.
And then the phone rings.
You are once again pulled out of your oh-so-close-to euphoric state and back into the very cold harsh reality.
You rush down the stairs, imagining the worst of this 2:30 am wake up call.
And it turns out to be an old college friend of your husband's who he hasn't seen or spoken to in at least 8 years and has now conveniently managed to get his truck stuck on a gravel road and just so luckily for him remembers you live in the area and even more luckily for him, finds your phone number and decides to call to plea for help.
Your sweet sweet, oh-so-glorious bed.
You listen as the previously mentioned child awakes again, crying this time, no doubt from the "friend's" phone call.
You lay awake, praying your husband has enough common sense to return to your cozy bed, when you hear the truck engine start and watch the headlights drive slowly down the lane.
You roll over and try desperately to fall asleep.
At long last you feel your body start to sink, deeper and deeper...
This is it. You are so close you can almost taste the sweet nectar of sleep as it rushes upon you.
And then the door creaks open.
Your husband is home. The "friend" had already been pulled out.
Once again you settle in. You shut your eyes. You. Must. Sleep.
Your alarm goes off.
Your loving husband has volunteered to work overtime and is getting up at 4:00.
You lay awake in bed, wondering if this night will ever end.
The dark thoughts rear their ugly head. Sleep! How you long for it!
The sheep have been counted, yet you are eluded. The flock mocks you.
You are curled in the fetal position, willing your regular old cotton blanket to somehow transform into the electric kind.
You contemplate building a fire in your bedroom.
The cold, miserable, exhaustion consumes you.
You dream of the warmth, of the tranquility, and suddenly-- there it is.
You can feel it. It feels heavenly.
Like the first bite of a chocolate chip cookie fresh out of the oven.
And you can hear it. It sounds like... it sounds like.. little footsteps on the stairs?
Your children are up, running around the house, arguing, whining... You pull the covers over your head and try to find that happy place again.
The said children crawl into your bed and amazingly, for the first time all night/morning, you are still.
You are warm and cozy.
Sleep mercifully finds all three of you.
For two blissful, mostly uninterrupted, hours.
But inevitably you awake and quickly realize you have just 45 minutes to get 3 children up, fed, and clothed before your soccer game.
Those sparse minutes go by in a rush and soon there are shouts of "Get to the car!" and "Stay out of the mud!" ringing through the house.
But you do it.
You make it out the door with just enough time to get to the soccer field.
You have a fully stocked diaper bag, water bottles, snacks, phone...
Wait-is that your phone ringing?
It is. Your husband has already arrived at the soccer fields only to find them deserted.
Not a soul in site.
Since by this time you are already in town you drive straight to the office and
The receptionist kindly replies, "Why, yes dear they were."
You go on to ask why you were not contacted, what their plan was for such an event.
She assures you that the coaches have been working to let everyone know.
This would be a legitimate answer... except you are the coaches.
And you want to go back to bed.
But after the night you've had.. even that doesn't sound like a good option.
Thankfully this day ends up having two redeeming qualities
1. You visit your parents' house and the boys have a BLAST playing outside with Nana all afternoon while you and the baby take a nap.
2. Tonight while you are flipping through the channels to find the Sunday night shows, you realize it's only Saturday. Ahhhhh...