I’ve been thinking about that post quite a bit lately, because, unlike Amalah, I was a morning person. I have always been a morning person. Generally speaking, I have always gone to bed between 9 and 10 PM. Exceptions to this rule are made only with the assistance of 1) coffee 2) wine or some other combination of caffeine and alcohol. Even in college, I was an insomniac, but for me, it meant that I routinely woke up at 3 or 4 in the morning. I still went to bed most nights by about 10.
Then I started having babies, and I have never, in my life, been so tired for so long. My mornings are no longer about the quiet stillness of that first cup of coffee and watching the sun come up. (I know, I KNOW! Barf. But I really liked that once upon a time.)
This morning, Beckett woke up at 3AM to nurse. And then he did not feel like going back to sleep. He was not cranky or crying. In fact, he spent two hours babbling happily in the pack ‘n play in our room. But while he was happily babbling, I was becoming more and more irritated. I couldn’t sleep. I wanted DESPERATELY to sleep. At one point I stumbled over to the pack ‘n play to try to shove a pacifier in Beckett’s mouth and I was so irritated I shouted. At my not-quite-five-months-old baby. Who I wanted to go to sleep. That, right there, is a parenting WIN.
By the time I do actually drag myself out of bed (usually around 6 or 6:30), both of the kids are usually already awake. So the serenity of the still, quiet morning is gone. Everything is changing diapers and cutting up bananas and making toast from the get-go. Coffee is no longer a slow luxury. Instead, my first cup of coffee is shotgunned so that I can wake up enough to make sure Maggie does not feed her LIFE cereal to Beckett when I’m not looking. Even though I’m often awake when the sun is coming up, I almost never actually see it.
So now I am not really a morning person. In fact, from an emotional standpoint, the hardest part of my day is actually that point when I start to hear the kids stir, but I keep trying to convince myself that they will quiet back down and I might be able to milk another ten or fifteen minutes of sleep out of the morning. Eventually, I give in, get up, change diapers, make toast, shotgun my coffee, and dream of the day when I will get up first.