I remember in the early days of pregnancy reading an adorable article in one of my parenting magazines that discussed the brilliance of parents being able to sleep in. With some careful planning and some strategically placed boxes of Cheerios that kids could easily grab by themselves for breakfast, the glory could all be yours!
I thought it was a fantastic plan and eagerly looked forward to being this kind of parent–the kind of parent who wakes up fully rested on a Saturday morning.
I even told a friend with older kids about it. Why she didn’t punch me in the face, I’ll never know. If I could go back in time, I would punch myself in the face.
Because then I actually had kids.
And I learned.
I learned the cold, hard truth: I will never be fully rested until EVER now that I have children. By the time they make it through the night sans hysterical fits over blankets falling off beds or imaginary monsters plaguing dreams, we will likely have moved onto early morning soccer practices or some other meet-the-sunrise fun.
It’s a doomed existence to exhaustion.
That’s cool. I signed up for this. Table the gorgeous Star magazines and bubble baths–I’ll catch them in retirement. Maybe.
But the thing of it remains–I miss my husband.
Surely, somehow, by some wild stretch of imagination we could eke out one prolonged morning in bed?
So we tried this past weekend. We really did.
Our son woke up. He’s five, so we barely humored his awakeness–he’s five and can totally handle independence, right?
Our daughter woke up. She is three. We told her to go potty.
That took 10 seconds. We then told her to feed the dog, who was dedicatedly working himself into hysteria as his parents were clearly neglecting him by remaining in bed an extra 4 minutes.
God knows if she actually fed him or how much she fed him. It may have been an entire 40lb. bag. We didn’t care. It bought us at least an extra entire full minute of cuddle time before the psychotic, neurotic dog rejoined us in the bed, rolling his 70+ lb. body on top of mine in panicked fit that we had completely forgotten his existence on this earth.
My husband yelled at the dog. My daughter insisted I help her dress in a tutu. My son wanted eggs.
It was futile.
We had tried.
We had been bested.
It was time to call it a morning and get out of bed. Maybe someday Cheerios can work their magic and Mommy and Daddy can cozy up under those sheets. But for now?
There just ain’t no rest for the weary, friends. No rest at all…Bottoms up with that coffee cup.
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