The Trouble With Mornings...

...is that they come too soon.

Once upon a time, I used to be able to get up before sunrise, go through an entire day full of energy and pep, and fall asleep peacefully that night. My girls were big enough to go to bed when I told them to (though I might have had to repeat myself ten or twenty a few times.) Life was good.

Nowadays, I'm lucky if I get 3-5 hours sleep on any given night (and there are plenty when I don't get even that much!) It goes a little something like this:

8:30pm - Daddy will take Big Boy and Princess upstairs to snuggle them down for the night. Princess will scream for about 5-10 minutes, then immediately drop unconscious. Big Boy will want to keep talking until finally, after much cajoling and back-rubbing, he'll hold still long enough to fall asleep. Downstairs, I'm valiantly trying to get Precious to realize that it's no longer playtime and sleeping really would be a good idea.

9:30pm - Somewhere in the world, perfect moms are enjoying the perfect stillness of their perfectly clean homes while their perfect children dream in perfect peacefulness in their perfect bedrooms. Meanwhile in the never-ending chaos of mess I call my life in my house, a certain teenager is sheepishly admitting that Precious might have accidentally fallen asleep for a few minutes around 7:30 while I was helping Daddy put up the chickens, and would this be an okay time to check her email?

Sometime after 10pm - Precious has eventually given up the fight and fallen asleep. The teen girls have spent twenty minutes giggling in the bathroom brushed their teeth and headed upstairs for another thirty-minute giggling fit bed, and Daddy and I can finally be alone. A perfect time for Dad to do what? Catch up reading some online Farmer's forums. Guess I'd better grade schoolwork.

Near midnight - I'm trying very hard not to try too hard to fall asleep, while Dad slumbers beside me. I've just about convinced my internal voices to shut up for Pete's sake, you can nag me to death about everything I've left undone in the morning! when I hear that fateful sound. The sweet pitter-patter of Big Boy's feet heading our way. Blearily, I watch as my bedroom door opens, his small silhouette slipping into my inner sanctum to wedge his way up the middle of the bed, where he will proceed to elbow and knee me as he fidgets in his sleep for the next several hours until...

Dark o'clock - Another tiny body makes its way stealthily into my bed. For untold minutes, Princess will be content to bury herself into the warmth and security of my arms before sitting up to proclaim it's potty-time. Down into the dark depths of the silent house I'll carry her, hoping, praying that this time she'll go straight back to sleep. Alas, my prayers are in vain. She's wide awake now, and ready to play. No amount of snuggling, begging or pleading will induce her back to her dreams.

Pre-dawn - What was once an endless night has now come to a close. After admonishing me several times with "Wake up!" and a shake, Princess allowed herself to get a little too comfortable on the couch and has once again succumb to slumber. Gently I place her back in her own bed and carefully, oh so carefully, I tiptoe back to my room. I cringe as the aging box-springs announce my arrival, but all is well. Precious rolls over in her crib, breathes deeply, and remains still. At last, the respite of sleep awaits me.

Twenty minutes later - Daddy's alarm shatters the silence with all the subtlety of a nuclear warhead. I burst forth from under the covers, wishing I could take a baseball bat to the hated machine. Silence, but for Daddy's continued snores, descends again but only for the barest of moments. WaaaaaAAAAHHHHHHH.....

Good morning to you, too, Precious.