Saturday mornings–I love it when I can hit the alarm clock when the dreaded alarm goes off and ignore it completely. I duck under my warm covers, pull it up to my chin and before I could say, “thank God it’s …” I’m already snoozing away. The kind of sleep that puts in the abyss of bliss, no uninvited dreams, no sounds…all quiet and joyous…until a voice rang out.
“Where are my tennis shorts?” said a voice at the side of my bed, urgent and impatient.
Pulling myself back from the deep sweet arms of sleep, I can only stared….”what?”
So I dragg myself out of bed to search through drawers and dryers, and closets and the cavernous nooks of car–only to have him acknowledge in the end–“Oops, I think I left my shorts in the locker.”
Hello, you woke me up for this?
I happily amble back into bed, after cajoing my husband to take my son to tennis. Bliss again.
I arrange my bed, settle into the still warm indentations of my bed and before I know it–I’m back in the abyss, snug in the thickest throes of it all. Sleep, it’s so sweet when you’re perpetually deprived. Go away world, and let me have moments of zzz…
Right….before I can even catch forty winks, another voice rang out–this time–a small sweet voice at the side of my bed.
“I want pancakes…”
“Can’t you have cereal? Go ahead, get the corn flakes and pour yourself some milk. You can do it, you’re a big girl,” I almost pleaded.
“I want pancakes!” Insistent, prima-donna tone. I know what’s up. Give it or risk a full-blown tantrum.
Well, so much for sleep. As a matter of fact, forget it, if you’re a mom.