It makes me a little crazy. They wake up MayDay, who needs more sleep than they do, before he really should be up. They crawl up in my bed and have loud conversations about whose turn it is to talk. They run laps down the hallway. They operate with all cylinders firing but no direction, something akin to a bouncy ball in a racquetball court: random, crazy, unpredictable, and a little painful if you accidentally cross paths.
I know I should be grateful that they're that excited to go to school -- I mean, I guess I'd rather have to focus their energies enough to get out the door than have to cajole and convince and bribe them into their carseats. By the time they get to school, they have been sufficiently wiggly to expend surplus energy, and, miracle of miracles, they're both actually able to focus on learning/playing. But my goodness! Some sympathy for the sleepy one over here, please!
If the big boys have a good week at school, they get to go camping with Daddy on Friday night. I am thankfully exempt from attendance at this exciting event due to my extremely gravid state. Pregnant women, according to CPod, especially ones with only five weeks remaining, are precluded from sleeping anywhere but a real bed. Which, keep your fingers crossed, means I will get to sleep . . . until I wake up. All by myself. Oh, my goodness. I don't remember the last time I just got to sleep until my internal timer decided to acknowledge daylight.
So I've been thinking about what it would take for me to wake up as alert and happy as my children are upon their reentry to consciousness. Twelve hours of sleep every night? A gradual transition from sleep to wakefulness instead of the full throttle launch forced on me by the big boys? How about intentionally waking up an hour before the boys do so I can have a period of quiet time in which I am not required to interact with others? Yeah. That will happen.
I just don't think it's in the cards.
They must get it from CPod.
When I was in high school, attending early morning seminary, I was a monster. My mom would come in my room to wake me up at her own physical and emotional peril, because she never knew if I would be throwing verbal projectiles or real ones. I'm better now, but only just -- no more rudeness, unless you count scowling.
My mom maintains that she wasn't a morning person until she taught early-morning seminary. It is her fervent prayer that each of her children will have the same opportunity. I ask her to please refrain from calling such curses down upon my head, because I could seriously curl up in a fetal position right now just thinking about a 5AM alarm every day.
Oh, well. I'll count my blessings. My kids are obviously getting enough sleep, and they love school, and they wake up happy to start the day. I'll try not to put a damper on their enthusiasm with my lack of morning cheer. Let's just hope they don't grow into an attitude as dismal as mine!