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Friday, January 13, 2006

 

The Optimist

I can’t drag my butt out of bed lately. I have been sleeping later and later each day. Even I have to laugh at my ridiculously impossible optimism. OH! It’s 7:45 a.m.! Well sure I can get up, feed the dogs, get Maggie a bottle, change her diaper, dress her, occupy her while I take a shower, get myself dressed, put her shoes and hat and coat on, load everything into my car, realize she has taken a stinky poo in her pants, undress her, change her diaper again, dress her again, place her in the car, and drop her off at Grandma and Grandpa’s in 15 minutes! I might even have time to check e-mail too! And time to pick up coffee. Damn I am good. I’ll make it into work by 8:15. GODSPEED!

Who the Hell do I think I am anyway?

Needless to say I have been running a bit behind lately. I do not understand morning people. I like my sleep, and my dreams have been amazing lately. Bed. It is a lovely place to be in the dark early hours of the morning. I believe the sunrise times this week were right around 7:40 a.m., and I think the late appearance of the sun throws a wrench in our circadian rhythms. I depend on Maggie to wake me up in the wee hours of the morning, but man alive that child has been a slacker. I suppose that’s what I get for relying on a toddler. As a rule, toddlers are not reliable people, really. This morning, I awoke at 7:45 all on my own. I had already let the dogs out by the time Miss Madge started whimpering and knocking her little tin cup along the slats of her crib.

My in-laws must think I am off my rocker. They watch Maggie every morning while I work, and her dad picks her up in the early afternoon. I can’t seem to show up at the same time each morning. They never know when I am going to pull into the driveway. Occasionally Maggie’s hair will be pulled back in a barrette, but more often than not, her hair is hanging in her eyes like some sort of street urchin. Sometimes if I can’t find her shoes, I bring her over in pink cowboy boots. And her socks. Not only do they not match, but often the sock that I misplaced in my rush to get her ready is stuck to the inside of her pants, waiting for Grandma to make that first diaper change to fall out and holler “Hi there! Your Daughter-in-law is possibly the world’s flakiest mother! I am the sock that matches with the one on the child’s LEFT foot. Don’t ask me about the sock of another shade on her right foot. I HAD NO PART OF THAT.”

When we sleep late, our mornings get a little frantic.

And yet on the weekends she is bright eyed and bushy-tailed by 6:45 a.m.

Because, you know, we would hate to be late for hanging out in our pajama’s ogling eachother.

1 Comments:

Anonymous CJ said...

Thankfully I am not the only mom who can't seem to get enough sleep! I don't think your inlaws think your odd... Your mother in law was obviously once a mom and I really think this is one of those phases we go through. Who wouldn't want more sleep after what we do every day? I am looking forward to when gracie is Three I will be able to get a full nights sleep and get back to the person I once was!
CJ

8:46 AM  

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