When you’re up all night with a toddler, there isn’t much to be thankful for. But last night when Baby A woke up at 12:30 AM and didn’t seem interested in going to bed until 4 AM, I was thankful for M.
As I mentioned yesterday, I have a good amount of work on my plate. And when this happens I tend to get caught up in my to-do lists. Last night as my son decided that he would rather play than sleep I seethed. Didn’t he know I wanted to be up at 5 to work? How dare he not sleep. It wasn’t my finest mommy moment.
But M., even in his dog-tired state, made sure A. was happy—even giggling at some points. We had a long night. This morning M. woke up, got dressed and went to work. He’s a trooper—a truly dedicated dad.
I have a weakness for Starbucks’ iced coffee. I drink one nearly everyday, but I hate that I use a plastic cup each time I didn’t one. Using a reusable cup would be great but the ones out there have excited me…that is, until now.
Starbucks took their flimsy plastic cups made them so they’re BPA-free, dishwasher safe, and double walled so they don’t drip from condensation. Yippee! My iced coffee isn’t contributing to my recycle pile. I don’t think I have been so excited about a product in a long time.
If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you know that I am no stranger to waking up early. Since we’ve moved back to Los Angeles though, Baby A wakes me up. No more. Today I start my being-productive-while-you-sleep mornings. Now that A is older and M needs to be at work earlier, I need mornings to be my time: my time to write, my time to work, my time to read.
I came to this conclusion of repurposing the way I approached my mornings when I was staying up too late and not spending time with M. By the time the baby is in bed I don’t feel like working (though I should). Instead I want to enjoy the little time each day we have together, but can’t because I’m worrying about what I need to be doing. The cycle ends today.
The house is still. The streets are quiet. My tea is ready. I am awake and ready for my day to begin. It’s a good thing I’ve always been a morning person.
The night Alexander was born, my mom said to me: “Welcome to the sorority that is motherhood.” And while our relationship has changed (in a good way) after that night, she was right. Mothers have a camaraderie unlike anything I’ve experienced, especially today.
This morning Baby A and I went for our walk to the coffee shop that we frequent. When I ordered my iced coffee, the woman behind the counter asked “Regular or Decaf?” Could she see that I only slept about four hours last night because A decided he wanted to wake up at 5AM? Yes, she could and not only that, she understood. Her 20-month-old daughter was in a stage of 5 o’clock in the morning wakings. The two of us commiserated about trading sleep for a clean house and the yearning to have our kids sleep until 7 AM again.
Later at the park, A. started playing with a baby girl the same age as he. They started out sharing her ball but eventually my rambunctious son ended up playing catch with her mom. (He loves playing with balls and can for hours.) The woman was so sweet to entertain my son and I tried to reciprocate the favor to her daughter since A. had bogarted the play and the mommy. Baby girl mommy and I talked about baby shoes, development and boy-girl baby differences. It was very natural and you would have thought that the two families had known each other for awhile, not for the 30 minutes our kids were playing.
This also happens virtually. Thousands of mommy social networks prove this, but I tend to experience it on Facebook with the women that I went to high school and college. Post a question and answers will come. Just today a friend asked those with two-year-olds what time does their child wakes (There seems to be a theme, don’t you think?) and the answers came. There is also support and kudos. For women (like myself) who can find themselves at home with just baby and kitties daily it’s comforting to know that there is someone on the other end of the keyboard experiencing (or who experienced) many of the things we are.
Joining the Ma-Ma sisterhood was one of the many surprises about becoming a mother. I’m so glad it’s a good one.
It’s 6 AM and the beach in Santa Monica is quiet. There are a couple of surfers, runners and cyclists getting their workouts in before the day begins, before the crowds come, and before the sun burns off the clouds. That is why I am here.
Me and my friend Cy used to make the early morning journey down Interstate 10 to this beach path twice a week. Today we are doing it again. After years, we’re rollerblading past the numerous Perry’s, the beach clubs, the volleyball courts and the homes.
There is something relaxing and invigorating about our out and back routine. Glading along the bike path, wind in our hair, legs pumping, we talk about our lives and the things around us. There are periods when we don’t talk, we just roll along in our own worlds and that’s fine. What’s important is that we are on the beach blading before the crowds.
It’s 4:30 AM and I’m petting my attention starved (and hungry) cat Lil’ Moo. I love the early morning when the world is still quiet. There isn’t a more productive time of day—no baby boy, no husband, no email pings, no phone calls. Just me doing whatever I want. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, even sleep.
I might trade it for a pill that allows you to exist without any sleep. This was the plot of a recent “American Dad” episode, the lead character Stan gets a pill from the CIA lab (where he works) that allows him to exist without sleep. So while his family snoozes away, he catches up on movies, reads “The Hunt for Red October,” a book he has been trying to finish for years (After one page, he normally falls asleep. I can relate.) and plays video games. His wife, Francine, also starts taking the pill. She takes up marine biology and spends her time tracking down an elusive squid. My husband and I both secretly wish it was on the market, just so we can get everything we want done—whether it’s going to the gym (ours is open 24 hours), reading a book, working or just petting the cat.
But until that happens, I’ll continue to rise before the sun.