Saturday, July 31, 2010


1 a : dawn b : the time from sunrise to noon c : the time from midnight to noon

I'm not much of a morning person.  But I realized today that mornings are different than they used to be.  At 8:20, my brother-in-law called.  J and I were awake, but still in bed.  When I asked why he was calling so early, he laughed and said, "I've been up for two and a half hours.  It's not early."  Ahh, the joys of having an almost one year old are numerous, but none of them relate to the amount of sleep you get.

This summer, my 10 year old (A), 8 year old (B) and 6 year old (K) have consistently let me sleep until about 8 each morning.  (Except for that one week when the backsplash was being tiled - the tile guy was an early riser and started work each day at 7.  That was tough.)  Generally, I hear little feet running around by about 7:30 or 7:45, but it's near 8 before K runs upstairs and climbs into bed with me - or pulls me out of bed to come and see something.  I know from experience that we're in a very sweet place.

Before my brother-in-law's phone call this morning, B had made her way upstairs to snuggle for a while.  B's not the earliest of risers.  This summer, it's often been 8:30 or 9:00 before she emerges from her room and she will gladly stay in her pajamas even longer.  But she recently expressed a desire to make it upstairs before I was out of bed so that we could snuggle, so I was pleased to see her sweet face through my own bleary eyes this morning around 7:45.  K often comes up to snuggle in the mornings and while the bed was a bit full with four of us in it, I'm not complaining.  I know these days will rush by because I remember the ones that have already gone.

Today at lunch we were laughing about how J and I bought A a digital clock about six years ago and told her she absolutely could not come into our room until it said 6:00.  She and her uncle still remember the morning K was born, when he walked into her room and A was sitting by the clock, waiting for it to hit 6:00.  How long she had been sitting there waiting was anyone's guess. 

For a while after that day, A's little alarm clock was unnecessary.  K's cries regulated our sleep - or lack thereof.  Those newborn days are a bit hazy with each of my daughters, but I do remember several times with K when I was up and walking towards her cries before I was fully awake.  My body awoke before my mind and propelled me to her.  I don't especially miss that in-your-bones exhaustion that is the bailiwick of mothers with infants.  I don't even especially miss having an infant.  I love sleeping in a bit in the mornings and having a bit more time in the evening with J since I don't have to get up early.  I love things like K walking into the room with a baseball glove on her hand, saying, "Daddy, don't you want to play baseball with me?"  I love A showing me how she's going to do her solo when she's on So You Think You Can Dance.  I love B sharing a favorite book with me.  In fact, I have a feeling that I'll miss having daughters who are 10, 8 and 6 more than just about any stage prior to this.  They are perfect little buds - I get glimpses every now and then of what talents will ultimately flower within them, but they are still young, still children.

The days of needing to tell A she's can't enter our room until 6 are gone, but A is still an early riser.  I wonder how much longer that will last.  She's ten and is showing physical and emotional signs that adolescence is approaching.   In the blink of an eye, J and I will be the first ones awake, debating how much later we should let our teenage daughters sleep.  So while it lasts, I'll enjoy these sweet, lazy mornings in our home and I'll not spend too much time - or shed too many tears in advance - anticipating the mornings that will find a J and an S, but no A, B or K here.

Bright and early - first day of school, 2009

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