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.
Read More...
