Keep Me In The Dark

On numerous occasions I have expounded on the pain and torture of having children who are early risers. Some people view this as irony, others retribution. In any case, for years I have had to make a daily choice to get out of bed and tend to my children or to ignore the sounds of screaming or my house being torn apart.

But something has changed.

More and more often I am getting out of bed at seven. SEVEN! I mean, I used to only sleep that late on weekends! The kids are sleeping later, and if they aren't they are at least quiet for a good length of time.

And I am still having trouble pulling my lazy self out of bed. I suppose I am getting spoiled, or maybe just stubborn. I shuffle along, doing exactly what we have done every morning for the past three years. We change diapers, we have breakfast, we get dressed, and there is a lot of convincing and cajoling and reminding and rushing during this whole process.

But now that we are sleeping almost an hour later each day, we are running out of time. I find myself in my nightgown with five minutes before the bus is due to arrive, the kids running around with sticky fingers and no shoes, and Andy will pick that moment to remind me he needs a diaper change.

Of course. Now that they let me sleep late, we shouldn't be, and can't.