Sleeping In

Sleeping in. What the heck is that? Three kids later and I can't remember for the life of me what that is.

I lie. I can remember. When my girls were younger, I could sleep a little bit later on Saturday. Paige has been self sufficient since an early age. She may have been premature and got here seven and a half weeks early, but that sister has been trying to take care of herself since she was around 4. When she was 7 and her sister was 2, she could fix them a bowl of cereal and hang out with cartoons for a short while. She'd even change her sister's diaper if it smelled bad enough.

The Boy is 4. He is nowhere near that capable. I know. I know. You aren't supposed to compare kids because they're all different and yadda yadda yadda. He, under NO circumstances, can be left unattended. For even five minutes. Sure, he might get up, turn the television on, and settle in for a good 30 minutes if the show is good enough. But, chances are, during that 30 minutes, he'll start hollering for milk. And you better get up and fix it or he'll do it himself. It's better to just get up. The resulting mess of dozing even 3 more minutes isn't worth it.

The Boy is a morning person. Mama is not. Never has been. I have had to learn to be one, though. After 30 something odd years, I have learned to be a morning person. I don't even fight it anymore. There's no use. I foresee having to do this indefinitely. Now, The Man will get up with him normally on weekends. I sleep til when? 8:00 a.m.? I might get a 9:00 a.m. out of it if The Boy isn't loud and into his Power Ranger shows. I guess you can consider that sleeping in if you've never enjoyed sleeping through breakfast, dozing through brunch, and awaking to a lovely lunch.

Now? I get it on up and pour a cup of coffee before I even open my eyes good. I sit down with the laptop and start tooling around while surrounded by the sounds of children's television viewing. I'm not functioning at 100%, but I'm up and that Boy is supervised.

Thing is? I'm still a night owl at heart. I can't help it. I love night time. I love watching the television. I love night. I tell myself I'm going to bed at a decent time, yet midnight will come quickly. I lay in bed to go to sleep and as I look at the red numbers on the clock, I automatically start counting how long I have to sleep.

What I can't handle now? Afternoons. They KILL me. I can do the mornings and love the nights. Afternoons are my downfall. My gas tank is empty and I am falling down on the job. I find myself inching towards the recliner (which I will testify in a court of law has ether in the material), telling The Boy he has to come sit with me. I find that if I can close my eyes for 30 minutes to an hour....I might just make it. I love my afternoon snooze. I crave it. It's like an unexpected calorie free chocolate dessert in my eyes. Too bad I can't claim it every day.

Even at the supper table last night we were telling The Boy that he was going to have to lay down at school and rest. Which made him lift an eyebrow. Paige said....Man, I wish I could lay down after lunch at school. That would rock. The visual in my mind was of all those thousands of high school kids laid out in the hallways, heads on desks, earbuds in their ears...snoozing away. It might not be a bad idea.

What a long post about sleeping in! Or not being able to sleep in.

What are the chances of me finding a job (when my nest is empty- or doesn't need me at home ALL the time) where an afternoon siesta is a normal course of action? I love that commercial where all the adults are sleeping on the office floor with mats and blankies. It tickles me every single time.

Sleeping in. Maybe I'll discover it again. One day.