Monday, October 15, 2012

No longer a morning person

I used to be a morning person. I used to voluntarily show up to work by 7 am, when I was at my best, so that I could leave work at 4:30 and get a workout in or hit happy hour. In a past life I would actually get annoyed when my husband wanted to lazy around on a Sunday morning reading the paper and drinking coffee. I was always anxious to get out and start the day.

Of course that was before kids. That was before the daily 4:30am news flashes of a wet bed or a spider in the window. It was before the 5:30 am nursing sessions and the 6:45 am demands for cereal. It was a time when breakfast was not an hour long battle over who had the reddest bowl, or who got to turn on the kitchen light.

I was a morning person when getting ready involved taking a nice shower, applying my make up and flat ironing my hair. I was responsible for dressing only one person, not four. There was no searching for lost shoes, or leaving the house after realizing that I have cream cheese prints on my yoga pants, and no time time brush my hair.

I was a morning person when getting up early meant more "me" time in the evening. Now my "work" is never done before 8:00 pm, after the children are fed, bathed, and tucked in. Even then, down time often involves a gigantic stack of laundry eagerly awaiting folding.

So no, sadly I am no longer a morning person. These days I would just about sell my soul for an extra 45 minutes of sleep each day.  I have actually considered forgoing the occasional Saturday night babysitter in favor of hiring a helper to whisk away my children at daybreak, Sunday morning.

Please tell me, it gets better. Assure me that one day I will sleep in on Saturday mornings, and that the days won't be so long. Tell me that some good old fashioned quality sleep is in my not so distant future. Lie to me if you must. I need hope.


  1. I once babysat two children for two hours one afternoon so the parents could nap. The mom told me it was the best forty bucks she had spend in a long time. The Sunday morning AM children whisking away doesn't sound so unrealistic.

  2. Funny, I was thinking something along the same lines. Why do old people like quiet houses so much? Probably because of all the friggin' noise their kids made... they're just relishing in the quietness! So I guess we will be able to sleep in a quiet house again... when we're elderly. :P

    Okay, that was kind of a joke, but here's something to think about. How many teenagers wake up at the crack of dawn? Not many. I'd say THAT will be the honestly earliest time you will have a quiet morning. In the meantime, I'm all about swapping sleepovers. Send the kids to a friend's house, then return the favor. One weekend will be ridiculously noisy, when you have the kids, but it will all be worth it on that quiet Sunday morning!

  3. On the upside, your hair looks super cute!

    1. Funny, that was my first thought :-)

  4. Rachel, hang in there it will happen! Mine will sleep until 8 am on the weekends, and every once in a while, until almost 9. The key is to exhaust them during the week.

  5. When Lucky turned 5 or so, we trained them to leave us alone in the morning. Admittedly, we might possibly oversleep and come down to them all in underwear, playing video games, not even having eaten (not that they can't, they just don't think to), but it's sometimes well worth it!

  6. My sister and her hubby do the same as 'chadness' above -- her kids all get their own breakfast on the weekends. Sounds a little dangerous, but I guess it works??? Anyway, I feel the same way you do now...mornings really suck. Sometimes I remark to Hubby, "Just think, in like twenty years we'll be able to sleep in again..." then I just feel more depressed.

  7. I have never, ever, ever been a morning person. Therefore, I don't believe I should be allowed to comment on this post.

  8. No, no - what mother of young children could ever call herself a morning person? Impossible!! So much to do, so little time. Does get easier though. On weekends we set out the dry cereal in a bowl and a cup of milk (or in a drink bottle) for my son to help himself. Take heart.