I remember sleep-ins.
For my 20’s and half of my 30’s sleep-ins were not just restricted to the weekend. Even during the working week I could slap that snooze button faster than it could yell “Get up you lazy Cow” for a perfectly respectable 7:30am lay in. I could drink myself into potential boob-flashing condition on the weekends and know that it wouldn’t matter as sleep-ins were my God given right.
Fast-forward eleven years, three kids under 9 and a husband, and sleep-ins are something I remember fondly. I’m even at that point where I romanticise them in the way you do a teenage boyfriend – well at least the one that wasn’t a sloppy wet icky kisser or an annoying Pratt.
At 4am this morning, we woke up to M2 staring so intently at our faces it almost felt like she could have had an axe behind her back.
She whispered, “I’ve had a nightmare”, in her most rehearsed “I see dead people” voice. Well my love, you nearly made mum and dad do little piddles of fright when you woke us up. I for one, was in the middle of a sexy dream that involved Adam Levine and I’m pretty freaking sure he wasn’t coming back… so I flipped M2 the bird in my mind and gave her a reassuring cuddle.
I even had some resentment towards M2 as she couldn’t remember what the nightmare was about. I’m sure I wouldn’t have resented a Freddy Kruger/Dracula/creepy clown or even a giant Krispy Kreme attacking her mother-type scenario, but to not remember? WTAF? I needed something to go with so that I could ensure whatever was causing the nightmare is hunted down and at least maimed while M2 is at school.
Our collection of M’s all go to bed at 7:30 every night. I know to some people this seems early and I’ve been told that if I keep them up later they’ll sleep in. It just doesn’t work. I could keep the M’s up till freaking midnight and the little energizer stalkers would still be there between 5:45 – 6:15 am. EVERY. SINGLE. FU$&ING. DAY.
Truth be told, I secretly despise people that tell me their kids sleep in till 7:30 every morning. Or the ones that say “yeah, my perfect Miss Dandelion Seven-Year old really loves her sleep and I have to wake her up every morning for school”. (Jealousy is a curse, after all). I smile politely while imagining myself lean forward to give her a little bitch slap just for showing off.
We cuddle for a few minutes and then the Husband takes her back down to her bed where she passes out immediately. Husband and I lay there and I feign sleep in case he needs a little something extra to help him go back to slumber land.
Just another day in parenting.
How tired are you as a parent of youngsters? If yours sleep in, give yourself a jealous little bitch slap from me.