why am I up at 8 on saturday?

I love tunner, but if I wanted to have a kid I would have one...there is nothing wrong with my plumbing.
So he slept with me last nite...that's okay except he turns circles and wants me to hold him tight in my arms...I called his mama at three and told her to come get him...
At seven-thirty I hear footsteps. I hid under my covers pretending to be asleep...maybe, just maybe they will go past my door...please let it be a ghost.
But no, I peeked out of my cover and I see bright eyes "MA...MA...". Goddamnit...he's handing me my phone and glasses...I sit up and he laughs..."ceamaeat" his language for cream of wheat, our weekend tradition...I made the girls pancakes, he gets "ceamaeat".
So now he's upstairs with pita, having eaten his "ceamaeat", choclahontas has gone off to dance, and I have to pull it together cause pita goes to work at eleven, moodmagicbarbie is off at a friends...thank God cause I needed a break from her, sometimes she's just too intense...
too bad I can't drink coffee (it makes my already strained nervous system go haywire, and I twitch like I have tourettes)...