I have a little list running in the back of my mind, of all the things about me that I thought would magically change once I became a mom. And I would say that out of those dozen or so things, maybe one of them has actually happened. And that one I'm not really sure about.
Anyway.
One of the things that I thought would change is my ability to wake up in the morning. I thought that once I got used to being sleep deprived, got used to middle-of-the-night wakings and early morning feedings, that I would all of a sudden become a morning person, popping up at 6 a.m. with no trouble because I was used to it.
I know, I know ... what was I smoking, right?
Because, man, waking up still blows every bit as much as it did when I was a young and carefree childless chick of 25. I hate it so, so, very hard.
The thing is, it doesn't matter whether or not I've slept enough. It doesn't make one bit of difference whether I've been in bed for 3 hours or 12 -- when it's time to get up I am just going to hate the whole wide loving world. For at least a couple of hours.
I think I formed this wrong impression because my mother was always a morning person. I don't know if this came naturally to her or if she forced herself to develop the habit, but she was just always so darn perky in the mornings.
There was singing.
Every school morning, my brother and I would moan and roll over in our beds and tell her we didn't like her anymore and would she please go away until a more reasonable hour, but she wasn't deterred. She would open all the curtains and sing. And sometimes jump on our beds. And she thought it was all just terribly amusing.
My dad, on the other hand, I felt much more in tune with in the mornings. If for any reason it was his duty to wake us up for school, it was a much different affair. He would trudge down the hallway, not turning on any lights (because they were burning his sleepy eyes, no doubt), lean zombie-like against our door frames and croak "get up." Sometimes he would fall back asleep leaned up against the wall, or just give up and go lay back down, because he was too tired to persist when we didn't listen the first time.
So as much as I would love to have evolved into a cheerful, happy, morning person, who can bounce into my little girl's room with a smile, I have to say I just don't think it's ever going to happen. Because even though the world's cutest baby is waiting for me right across the hall and always gives me the sweetest smile when she sees me first thing, if I'm being honest, it's usually just the distant promise of coffee that actually motivates me to move in the mornings. Coffee and then the thought that if I actually make it out of the house in enough time, I can get a breakfast burrito.
So it's not my darling daughter that motivates me at 7 a.m., it's caffeine and bacon. Parent of the year, right here.
I hadn't even realized how unsociable I was in the mornings until a co-worker told me a while back that she watches me to see when I actually take my sunglasses off, and then she thinks it's OK to talk to me. That's because, yes, I come into the building with my sunglasses on and I usually don't take them off until I've already been sitting at my desk for a while. Because it all just seems so harsh out there, when I've only been out of my comfy bed for an hour, and somehow sunglasses seem to make it a little more bearable. Honestly, if someone talked to me first thing I wouldn't mind and I'd enjoy speaking to them -- it's just that I never volunteer conversation before 9 a.m.
So if I've ever given any of you the impression in the morning that I was basically in the same frame of mind as a wounded grizzly bear, just realize that this is in fact the case, and all I need is a cup of coffee and about a half hour and then I'll love you again.
Peace out, homefries.
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P.S. It's election season, so everyone should, you know ... go and vote. Voting is important, man. Don't be a voting slacker. I don't know if you'll get a sticker for voting or not, but you should probably get out and do it anyway, and if you want a sticker I'll get you one.
sharris@blythevillecourier.com