I slowly pry my eyes open and look at the clock. It’s 6:45 a.m. on a Sunday. I hear the door slowly open and close. Then the footsteps. “Mom?” She isn’t groggy so I wager she’s been up at least 20 minutes already.
No, I don’t want to be an adult yet. I don’t want to answer questions or function in any capacity. I don’t want to be responsible for anything but my own breathing at this moment. And yet — I can’t ignore the fact that she is standing six inches from my side of the bed.
“Yes, you may turn on your TV and play quietly in your room. Please don’t wake your sister.”
I’ve always been a sleeper. I could honestly sleep until noon if it was socially acceptable as a 30-something (and if my own body didn’t betray me by not letting me go to bed at 9 when I need to for a work night). So the quiet and early awakenings on weekend mornings are rough.
I guess it is payback for the five other days when I flip their lights on to shake them from their dreamscapes and get them ready for school. On those days, waking up at this time is an impossible task. And yet, today when there are no activities planned, waking up is their favorite thing to do.
Still… I want to sink into a deep slumber and forget the dishes, the laundry, and my responsibilities.
Take refuge in the whir of the fan and snuggle under my blankets.
It’s not easy to go to bed early. There is not enough time in the days to complete all that needs to be done AND spend quality time as a family. I am in a constant state of catching up on sleep or chores.
More noise. This time the baby monitor. The sound of whales moves through my ears. Surely I have a bit longer. But deep sleep will never come now. The little one is on the verge of learning to climb out of her crib, so my mom nerves start listening for sounds of escape.
On days like this I usually function on a couple cans of Mountain Dew strategically timed to not allow for a sugar crash. But, of course, when I find myself wide awake at 2 a.m., I struggle to get back to sleep. An endless cycle that only seems to be resolved by my sleep-in days.
Finally I hear the baby reach from her crib to turn on her light. I throw back the blankets and swing my tired feet to the floor — 7:45 a.m. It’s time to be an adult. Surely this is going to mean a nap today….
