January 15, 2013 by rebeccaannemarshall
I don’t mean to start out today’s post bragging about my children, however I believe that for the sake of easing into today’s topic, that is exactly what I am going to do. My children are good morning children, Chelsie has always been a late sleeper inner, even as a baby. By sleep in I mean 9 o’clock is her average morning wake up time, unless of course she has school. Obviously it varies, some days it is earlier some days it is later. During the week I have to go into her room and wake her up to get ready for school, so once a weekend hits it is nice to just let her sleep in. My other girls, although earlier waker-uppers, are happy morning girls (as long as they wake up on their own, during weekdays when they have to be woken I would classify them as devil grumpy morning girls). They share a bedroom, Belly and Jade do, and often when they wake they end up quietly playing in the bedroom. Jeff calls them silent playing baby ninjas, many times you could swear to the moon and back that they were still sleeping until you opened the door to check on them, and they are just busy playing dolls or silently rummaging through their clothing drawers.
On days when there is no school to get ready for, appointments to be at, groceries to shop for, a house to clean for arriving guests or whatever any other reason you would need to be awake before the sun, this house usually gets to sleep in until at least 9 in the am. On other glorious magical days, ones that Jeff has off, I usually get to sleep in a little bit longer and he gets up with the kids and lets me continue in my world of dreams for an extra half hour or so.
Now I have never been a morning person. Even before I had children. To drag myself away from my comfortable bed, pull myself out of a dream (and we all know that by murphy’s law you will ALWAYS wake up just as something fantastic is about to happen, or just before that faceless person in your dreams is about to turn around and reveal themselves to you.) I always thought when I was younger that my hate for mornings was merely a side effect of long nights or the fact that I had to get up to go to that dreaded place called school. So many factors that work into morning hatred when you are younger, far to many to go into great detail.
When I had children I went into it with horror stories galore. “You will never sleep again”, “forget ever sleeping in again, those days are over”. Parents telling me how their little beans like to wake up at 4 am. I have to say that when Chelsie finally came home from the hospital I was more then relieved to have such a well sleeping baby, whose sleep schedule always allowed me to sleep in 3 to 4 hours longer then what I had been preparing myself for. Did this make me more of a morning person? No. I still had to ooze myself out of bed every morning, parting with my warm blankets and soft pillows, I still had to fight through the brain fog of still-half-alseep as I forced my body to wake up and get moving before my mind had even done it’s regular morning stretch and yawn.
When I had Isabella I told myself I would be pro at this. I may not be a morning person but in time I will become one, once I have gotten used to years of having to wake early. I even found myself still trying to convince myself of this when I had Jade. EVEN NOW I sometimes tell myself, eventually I will be a morning person. On to year number 2 now of Chelsie being in school and having to get up before the sun and the children, having to wake the girls up an hour or two before they would normally willingly wake on their own, and I still have yet to get use to it.
Now remember how I told you that I am pretty lucky with my girls and their ability to sleep in when they are able to? Or how wonderful daddy will let me sleep in even longer then that on days when he does not have to work? I come back to this because after having given it some thought I have decided what my TRUE problem is. Bare with me a moment while I explain.
When I have the chance to sleep in until 9 it takes me quite a while to wake. I need my coffee first thing after I have dragged my zombie like body down the stairs. I yawn about 100 times and fight the urge to curl up on the couch. My brain wakes fully before my body does, so I write in my journal each morning as an excuse to be lazy while seeming a little productive, and about an hour or so later I am awake enough to start cleaning, or doing whatever it is that is on my list of todo’s that day.
When Jeff is off work and I get the chance to sleep in until 10 it takes me quite a while to wake. I lay in bed and stretch a few million times before rolling off the bed and crawling down the stairs to my already made coffee (because Jeff is made of awesome and knows how much I hate having to wake up….) ….. THAT’S IT!!!!!
I am NOT not a morning person… I am not a waking person! It has absolutely nothing to do with mornings! I could wake at 4am, 6;30, or noon, and I would dread the waking process all the same. It is not the time of day that is where the problem lays, it is the simple fact that I have to wake up! It is the process of shaking your brain out of it’s dream state while simultaneously making your muscles wake to join you and convincing yourself that it is time to pull yourself out of your comfy blankets. It is having to scramble to find where your energy ran off to while you were sleeping and catching it to get your day started before laziness takes over (I am convince this is where my do-nothing days come from, simply not having been able to find my energy in time and then letting lazy own the day).
So now I’m back to my lovely sleeper-inners, I must have trained them well. That is my only explanation for my luck. They, like me, bask in the joy of their warm beds and soft blankets, squeezing out every moment of comfy before having to get up and join the day, and the best mornings always being the ones when they sneak into my room and join me in my morning routine of comfy blanket/bed basking. Having them be the reason that I have to endure the waking up process is the best reason that I can think of for having to do it, that is for sure. I used to think that things would change when I had children, that waking in the mornings would become easier if only because of routine. They have yet to become easier, but they have become nicer.
Until Saturday! Ta ta!