I know I should be thanking the magically delicious shooting stars and purple horseshoes that Axel's sleeping a solid ten hours each night. And I'm grateful. It's just that I'd consider animal sacrifice (just a little one, like a goldfish) if it would guarantee that he'd sleep in a little longer, until the sun is higher in the sky than the moon, even until 6:00 or 6:30 am.
Most mornings, I'm on solo baby duty. My man works 24 hour shifts which, with driving time and the fact that he gets in early and leaves late, mean that he's gone 26+ hours. So, if he's working, he leaves the house by 5:45. If he's coming home from work, he gets back at 7:45. Thus I'm trying to walk the dog and dress myself and dress the baby and feed the baby and possibly run a couple miles before work and make sure my sweater doesn't have boogers on it and get the bottles and diapers and my work crap in the car and a squirming baby in his car seat and, well, you get the picture. It's just a little bit chaotic. There's a lot of tripping over the cat and wearing of socks that don't match.
Almost every morning between 5 and 5:15, Axel makes his first peep, and I beg him (silently, from the other room) to just sleep in a little longer, so that I can sleep a little more and/or shower in peace. And every morning, Axel decides that 5:30 is the perfect time to get up and at 'em, and get the proverbial worm and all that. He's got important things to do. He can't just lounge around in bed all day. Hey, lazybones mama, he calls, get moving! There are enough worms to go around, I want to tell him, and you can still dig up a whole mess of them if you just give me fifteen more minutes.
Further complicating things: my old strategies no longer work. It seems I've got to pull a new baby distraction technique out of the hat every month. Now that Axel hates the exersaucer because baby, he was born to move, I can't stick him in there to bounce while I'm in the shower. This morning, I shut us both in the bathroom and hopped in the shower, and Axel discovered the toilet paper roll, a momentus occasion in any child's life, and ripped off sheets and then amused himself by trying to open the lid on the toilet. He ignored the colorful and strategically placed toys on the floor. The bathroom was a mess, my hair was wet, I had mascara on one set of my blonde eyelashes, and then a wave of ravenous hunger overtook Axel and forced him to do this weird bouncing from his butt to half standing thing that would be impressive if he wasn't also kind of being a butthead. An adorable butthead with a piece of (clean) toilet paper stuck to his upper lip.
I'm thinking maybe if I pulled an actual rabbit out my hat, especially a talking rabbit with bells on its toes, I'd be able to take a four minute shower and still have eight minutes to get dressed before Axel gets bored with the rabbit and tries to pull the phone book off the shelf and rip up all the listings of plumbers - which I let him to do because there seems to be seven competing phone book companies in our area, each of which delivers a new edition to us every month which we don't use because that's what the internet is for.

Let me pause here and say that all this morning chaos makes me even more impressed by single parents. Sure, I'm alone lots of days of the month, but not every day. Someone else is responsible for the compost bin and mowing the lawn (really, he does it, despite what it looks like in the picture above) and does half the grocery shopping (three cheers for my husband!). Just the thought of really doing it all alone overwhelms me. You guys are amazing. Big applause, all around.
I've tried shifting Axel's bedtime up a little and back a little. Still, his internal alarm goes off by 5:30. Regardless of whether he guzzles six ounces of milk or two before bed, he gets up before the sun. Dog barks have no influence on his sleeping or waking. He's just a morning baby. I'm mostly a morning person myself, but I'd like my morning to start at 5:45 and his to start at 6, so I have a few minutes to get some things done before the bright-eyed and diaper-tailed hyper-speed crawler joins me. Anything before 5:45 should still be dreamland for me and especially for a growing baby.
He did sleep until 6:30 on Monday. I got really, really excited, and then he woke up at 5:15 yesterday and at 5:20 today and dashed my hopefullness. He was coming down with a cold, and somehow I don't think that encouraging illness is the solution.
Unless any of you out there have some tried and true ways to get babies to sleep in, short of drugging them, I think I'm just going to have to get up earlier if I want to reduce the chaos. My alarm is going to be set for 5 am. No more late night TV for me, or drinks after happy hour, or crazy 10:00 pm dance parties in the living room. Not that I did any of those things before - I've been doing laundry and prepping things for daycare and doing dishes and catching up on work emails and trying to find a winter coat for Axel on Ebay. I'll just have to resign myself to sleeping less and drinking more lattes, and stop holding out hope that I'll be well-rested anytime in the next eighteen years.