Since I’ve started writing this blog, I have begun to notice all of the changes that take place when one becomes a parent. The way your stomach becomes stronger to foul odours, the way your mind becomes more open to others opinions, but for me the biggest change has been my sleep patterns.
I remember being a teenager, sleeping in till a late 2 or 3 in the afternoon, finally waking to get a mouthful of scolding from my dad, who was outraged that I had ‘Slept away the whole day.’ Then me, being the insubordinate teen that I was, would just roll my eyes and let his words go in one ear and swiftly out the other. Oh how he would get mad at my slothful sleep habits, but hey I thought; who in their right mind would get up at 6am like him just to drink coffee and watch the weather network.
Me, post children, that’s who. In current days, I find myself waking earlier and earlier especially now that SUMMER IS COMING, I type this in a fanatic frenzy because there is simply no other way to explain my joy of this ridiculously long winter coming to an end. And it is true, as the daylight hours become longer I have began waking earlier, just so I can get in some childfree time in the morning.
Usually it begins at around 6 in the morning, the first fluttering of my eyelids. I will then toss and turn (that’s if I don’t have a child sleeping atop my legs) for a bit, but finally give in to the temptation of a nice hot coffee and some private writing time. My morning brew is already made and ready to perk when I sleepily make my way towards the machine as I do not want to waste any moments of my solitary sunrise. After I wait the bare minimal time for the thing to produce a single cup of coffee (which in itself feels like I’m lingering much too long for) I sit down to have a look at my Facebook and other social media sites. This customary habit of mine, lasts about 5 minutes, because I very rarely have anything worth looking at on these sites, so soon after turning my computer on I begin to write.
6:30am, time for another coffee. This time my feet take stealthy steps, for the occasion of the children’s awakening is quickly approaching. I do not want to assist in their rousing, so I proceed to do this outlandish series of footwork across our ever creaking linoleum. Left foot on the right side of the three tiered stairs towards the kitchen, skip the middle step and aim for my left foot to hit mid section atop the last stage towards my goal. I then tiptoe quietly towards the place where my coffee pot lies, almost being able to taste my caffeine winnings. This morning, my fancy footwork proves successful and I am granted another half hour children free.
As I quietly click away at the keyboard, I realize the coffee has hit me with retaliation and the urge to pee is palpable. Quietly, inaudibly almost, I make my way towards the bathroom to do my business but without thinking flush the toilet. All is lost in regards to my peaceful morning because as I wash my hands I hear the very musing bellow of a 4 year old. I open the door, and see Lars’ face ridden with tears, he is hyperventilating while gulping down mouthfuls of air, unable to clarify what his issue is. Finally he gets out, “Mama….I wake….Up…and you….NOT HERE!” Really Lars? You’re seriously mad at me for using the washroom?
And. It. Begins.
I reassure Lars that I was just going pee, and that Moms need to pee too sometimes, but in his trepidation he has woke up his sister.
It was nice while it lasted. I don’t think I will take on that trait of my fathers, condemning my children for sleeping in, I feel like I will forever cherish my lone mornings, and do anything it takes to assure they continue on for as long as these babes are living under this roof.
And as I pull Sophie off Lars, because for no reason she has suddenly attacked him (probably to simply hear him cry) I think of the beautiful occasion that will be tomorrow morning, when once again I will be allowed a hour of concord. And just in case my internal timepiece fails me…I set the alarm clock.