Ahhhh, the weekend. Nothing more promising than a Saturday morning. Friday nights are cool too, but you're usually so tired and winding down from the rest of the week that morning is the last thing on your mind. Plus, lucky me, I have a great group of gal pals who get together every Friday night and a husband who completely supports it...he crashes shortly after the kids go down. But enough about him! Me!!!
So I was lying in bed, thinking about our new Saturday morning ritual, which is, pretending to still be asleep. It will start at about 6:30-7am, when I start hearing a bit of chatter coming from the boys room. They work hard to stay quiet and their door is closed, so I can usually doze off. But soon enough the big guy is up using the washroom. Little brother follows and they have an animated discussion about the poop the big guy has created and hand washing. They go back in the room. This time they're playing marble maze, I can't get back to sleep, but I'm not leaving the bed until they drag me out kicking and screaming. Then they get bored of course and you hear the pitter patter....HA! Thumpity thump of two sets of preschooler legs. They slow down and "quietly" peek in our room, where we're both lying, pretending to sleep. Big sigh! They head off to another room. DH and I look at each other in terror wondering how much more time we have until we're caught.
At this point, I start mentally calculating how much it would cost to have an escape route leading directly from our bedroom to downstairs. A fireman's pole would be perfect. That way, we can bypass the kids and go directly for the coffee. We might even have half a cup if we're quiet enough before they detect our absence. My contractor might think I'm nuts, but who knows, he's a father of two, he likes his coffee, he might think I'm brilliant. I certainly do.
Dearest quietly asks me how I slept, which is code for "Are you getting up now?" Why he asks, I don't know, because if mommy is up and the kids are awake, daddy better get up if he knows what's good for him. Being a man who's been married for 11 years, he's smart enough to do this. I guess he's just hoping for the two days a year (Father's Day and his Birthday) where he gets to sleep in at my expense. At this point, we can manage quiet conversation, because the kids figure all bets are off, they let us sleep in 20 minutes and now they're going to be as noisy and possible. I figure we have about 5 more minutes before they start squabbling over something. So we plot out our day, recap last night and have the only adult conversation til nap time in about 5 minutes. We're getting pretty good at it too.
Diatribe for a second. Do you know what I blame this on actually? The demise of Saturday morning cartoons. There used to be a time where kids would get up at 6am and quietly run to the TV, grab their breakfasts that their smart parents laid out for them and watch until noon if the parents let them. But nowadays, those cartoons have all been sucked away to make room for infomercials. Screw you infomercials! I'm never buying your crap no matter how sparkly, shiny or pseudo witty your hosts are because you've cheated me out of hours of sleep, years if you count my kids and the millions of Saturdays times three boys.
So back to us hiding in our beds, now we hear the determined stride of two little boys laden with toys towards our room. Dearest looks pained, like he's going to cry, I'm not too far behind, I'm not sure why he's complaining, he went to bed at 8, my gal pals keep me up til midnight at least (notice the lack of responsibility taking). Well, we know it's inevitable, and like a condemned person, we open our eyes, pull the duvet down past our heads and welcome our little monkeys, who climb aboard.
As much as I would love to sleep (and I'll be singing a different tune when Baby D arrives...eventually) you can't help but feel a bit flattered for the enthusiasm these two guys meet you with in the morning. No one else in the world is as happy to see you. They come to show us their toys, make sure Monty T-Rex who has been assigned night duty to protect mommy and daddy has done his job. They tuck mommy in, make sure baby is nice and warm, give kisses, hugs and cuddles. The perspective moment is clear, we're a family, with two-soon to be three crazy boys and as much as the sleep is nice, this is nicer. It's not going to be too long before we have to yell at them at 1pm to get out of bed to spend time with them, the last thing they'd want to do, so I should enjoy this while it lasts.
However all good things come to an end. The perspective moment is broken when they start squabbling over a toy and start using daddy as a launch pad. Daddy bravely submits, he's always been a morning person. I slip out of bed under the guise of using the loo, leaving Dearest to the two crazy beasts he's created and will be stuck under for the next 20 minutes and quietly pad downstairs for that first coffee of the day.
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