Just a Bad Dream?

12:30, 1:47, 3:22, 4:01, 5:35, those are the exact times that Charlie woke me up last night. That's right, A - fucking - M. I know this because I wrote them down so I would remember it wasn't all a bad dream, that it was in fact my bad reality.
The first wake up he just said my name oh so softly next to my ear, "Mommy? Mommy? Mama. Mama." What, honey? "I want to sleep in your bed." It was kind of sweet but we have a rule, everyone stays in their own bed till the sun rises. Back to bed he went, with minimal protest.
The second wake up was a little more disconcerting. I'm not sure how long he stood beside my bed, staring at me, willing me awake. But I sensed something and rolled over to see these 2 beady eyes in the dark. It scared the crap out of me. I thought I was having an encounter with a raccoon - if you've ever been camping, you know what I mean, their eyes glow in the dark, like 2 shiny floating marbles. "I want to sleep in your bed", said with the whiniest, saddest voice ever. "I don't like my bed." Sorry, chief, not good enough. Back to bed, this time there were tears and drama. He was full blown crying, "Noooo, I want your bed." I was quite firm, there is no choice here, you sleep in your bed and when it's light, you can come see me. More crying and ridiculousness, but this is how negotiations with a 3 year old at 2 am transpire, no surprises, just annoyance.
The third wake up was down right creepy. I felt someone gently touching my hair; like that guy who sat behind me in 11th grade homeroom, who would instantly stare at the ceiling when I turned around, pretending he hadn't been groping my locks. And who I later agreed to go to the prom with because he asked (not a lot of dating for me in high school) and because he scared me too much to say no. He wound up spending the whole night off by himself, exploring the darkest corners of the Sheraton Bradley International Airport Hotel for hours on end, only to return to the table, the pockets of his rented tux overflowing with matchbooks. Sadly he doesn't even make it into my top 5 creepiest dates. But I digress.
This was my own kid, I'm not sure which is more creepy? He must have known the old adage, 3rd times a charm, and that he was about to really piss me off. Which he did. I carried him back to his room, dumped him in his bed and said, It's dark, I'm tired, stay in your bed, Charlie. "But I'm wet." Well why didn't you say so? "And I don't like my sheet. I want the comfy, cozy white sheet." (he's talking about those wonderfully plush, chenille sheets from PBK) Charlie, you have a sheet, we'll put the comfy, cozy one on in the morning. Crying, screaming, loudness. "I want the comfy, cozy sheet. I want it. I want it." Be quiet, you'll wake up your brother. "Waaaahhhhh, comfy, cozy sheet." Stop it, just stop it. Get into your bed and we will change your sheet in the morning. Good night, Charlie.
My adrenalin was pumping now and I tossed and turned until the 4 am wake up. Same grievances for both parties, but when I put him back to bed, I told him next time to go wake up his father. I vaguely heard him at 5:30. Props to my boy for being a good listener. He went to bug daddy, not sure what tactic he used to wake him up, but whatever it was, Brian wasn't playing. He promptly brought him into our bed. I guess it was light enough out, because when I awoke at 8 am, Charlie was asleep next to me, looking so serene and angelic.
Maybe it all had been a bad dream? But then I noticed the time markings on the post-it next to my nightstand. Why? Why couldn't I just let myself have this moment of delusion? I was so tired, those 5 wakings could have easily blended into 1 in my mind of mush. I can tell you why - I wanted to chastise my husband with my martyrdom and also I have this annoying habit of always wanting to be right, even with myself. Deservedly, it bites me in the ass more times than I care to count. The universe speaks to me often and I think next time I'm going to wear ear plugs.