Visit the kelpforest....

The last few nights, Angus and Gareth have been waking up in the wee hours and wanting to crawl into bed with us. With Angus, he woke up having to go to the bathroom, wanted Daddy to help him instead of me, and just had a total meltdown. I could not even figure out what was upsetting him, he was so incoherent. Getting him to snuggle with us was about the only way we could see to calm him down. Gareth on the other hand, often just sneaks in - we wake up and he's there.

John is very territorial about his bed and after three days of this proclaimed it off limits. This was after Gareth, who's only three but sleeps like a linebacker, pretty much shoved him out of bed.

I can hardly blame them. I remember doing the same thing. And they may have some dim memory of when they were babies, sleeping with Mom until they were about 6 months old. So comforting - l loved snuggling with them when they were tiny. Avalon has only recently started sleeping on her own, and my arms miss her.

But we all reach a certain age, and are commanded to sleep by ourselves, those few hours in our daily lives when we are really the most alone. And we continue to sleep alone as we get older, even in group situations. We separate ourselves by separate rooms and twin beds, sleeping bags and bunkbeds in dormitories. Until we find that one person we are willing to share our sleeping space with.

And it's like coming home. This is familiar. I am not talking about sleeping with someone as a euphemism for sex. Possibly not even snuggling. Just sleeping in the company of another, who can roll over and with a touch or a hug, tell you "it was only a dream." Sometimes shared body heat is enough to keep the nightmares at bay.

Oh, I know it's not nearly this simple. There are a lot of issues that go along with it, including hormones, snoring and the heat of summer . But very few other primates are solitary - and we really aren't either. I wonder if humans as a species would be a little less aggressive and warlike, if we hadn't started separating ourselves from each other and abandoned sleeping in piles like other social animals.

Just a weird thought. Maybe it was triggered by some stories I've been reading.

I had been thinking I don't remember many dreams lately, and then this morning I had one.

Some friend of mine had signed me up to join the army. I definitely hadn't done it myself or I would have picked the the Navy or the Coast Guard. Not much happened except they put a bunch of us on a bus and took us to a motel where 15 of us were assigned to a room. The only problem was that there were only three beds. Most everyone took off for a last night on the town before boot camp, but I was tired and stayed behind with one or two other girls. I looked at the beds; two of them were king-sized, and the other was really an oversized patio lounger - a metal frame with plastic strip across it. I really wanted to go to sleep, but I knew I would have to leave room for everyone who was coming back. For some reason I picked the patio lounger, and settled down onto the very edge of it. Later I opened my eyes, and noticed my feet were in the middle of the bed, so I moved back over to the edge.

Unfortunately in the real world, John had wanted to snuggle, and got upset with me when I moved over. I was just trying to make more room.

I don't know why I dreamed about joining the military - maybe because John was watching "Private Benjamin" yesterday. I toyed with the idea of applying to the Coast Guard Academy when I was in high school, but when I found out most of the classes were geared towards engineering, I gave up on the idea. I was hoping they had more in the way of oceanography. They also had some policy at the time that you could not have any large scars. I have a large bald patch on the top of my head where I was burned very badlly as an infant - I guess I thought that would have disqualified me. I do remember that one disqualifier was "acne so bad as to be disfiguring." Guess we can only have hansome unscarred people as officers in the military.

Sitting here waiting for the coffee pot to finish up, noodling around checking my email and journals. Gareth woke me up about half an hour ago - "Mommy, I need something to drink, open your eyes." Nothing much new (since midnight anyway) and, figuring the coffee must be done. I blearily get down a couple of mugs, discover the powdered coffee creamer in fridge (who put it in there? not me), and wrench the pot out of the maker. John said if I bring him a cup he'll make pancakes, so I pour him a big mug. I blink at the liquid filling the cup - it's totally the wrong color. I check the basket and realize I completely forgot to put coffee in! Let's see, before I have forgotten the water, forgotten to turn the pot on, and forgetten to put the pot back in when turning it on. That last makes a bit of a mess, I can tell you. I guess I've covered all the bases now. That's what happens when you try to make coffee before you're properly awake.

Can I please, please, please, please take a nap now?

(No, you may not; it's only 2:30 and you're still at work - drink some more coffee.)