Thursday, June 21, 2012

a story about how my children were abducted by aliens and the wisest thing my husband ever said.

Look, this is a sad story and before you start rolling your eyes at the next sentence on the screen, let’s get one thing straight, because you’re great, you really are and I’m only sort of complaining about 56-99% of the way, which is the majority and majority feels like a very long word to type at the hour of 7:04 AM.

On the morning of June 21, 2012, in the year of our Lord, I was rudely and unpleasantly assaulted from my slumber by sounds of life from that room where my children sleep. The time was 6:16 Ante Meridiem. What the auto spell? What in all of creation is this madness and calamity of the great modern world?  Who are these children and were mine abducted by aliens in the FEW-ish hours that I was able to finally embrace the lovely slumber that night brings. And frankly, hasn’t my daughter taken enough of my sleeping hours to last a lifetime. The answer is yes, and wherever they might be floating through other worlds, I’m sure they are sound asleep, because…

My kids, my beautiful offspring, those kids wake up between 8-9AM, first the small, loud one, next the long, skinny one who stumbles out of his bed and onto the couch, because he does mornings the right way, slow and easy and quietly.  Blessed child. The other one, she has done 156 things in the thirty minutes before he has enough determination to relocate from the couch to the kitchen table, where then he will consume his basic food group of cereal.  Including try to wake him up and laugh and poke. That girl.

I know, I know, I get it, I’m sorry about whatever hour of darkness and despair your kids wake up, I really am, because I believe that the world is lurking with evil before the sun has had enough time to stretch, and drink a large mug of coffee. What the sun doesn’t drink coffee, you say, well, you don’t know that. End of discussion.

It just so happened to be the time that my delightful, handsome husband had to get up for work, poor, poor, beautiful man, and I snuck in that room of noise to grab the baby, hoping as usual that I’d extract her and close the door without my three-year-old teenage sleeper even flinching. Blessed child, did I say that already? Oh, probably.  Well, my friends, four little blue eyes met mine on this morning that is today.  Four very awake and talking eyes.   Boy eyes that said, want to lay by mommy. Girl eyes that squealed with all the energy that is not natural at such an hour.  What was I to do, and they tucked themselves under my soft, cozy blankets, where I was supposed to be sleeping for two more hours. 120 minutes. And so for the next ten minutes, they humored me with the cute little game of pretending that they were on board with the idea heads on pillows, eyes closed, slumbering magic.  I knew it wouldn’t work, I could tell, too many words were being said, too many limbs were in motion.  It was a disaster waiting to happen. And then, they stood on my pillow and started jumping and laughing, conspiring against me in the worst possible way. After all I do for them, they were making noise and jumping on my pillow before the news was even off the television, of course, that is speculation, since I do not watch the news or know what time it airs.

And with great defeat, I surrendered as my feet met the floor, followed by four very active little legs, where they were so delighted to see their father at home in the morning.  He pretended to feel sorry for me, but really, I imagine he was laughing all the way to work.

My son, he grabbed the bag of sun chips from the pantry, because someone else must have left them in his reach and he started making demands.  Want cereal, want bowl, want strawberries, want chips.  I looked at him, blurry, sleepy eyes and all and I pretended that I did not hear, because you see, well, keep reading.

Next, that man I love, the one who was surely laughing on the inside said the wisest and most important thing in all of his existence, (maybe, probably).  Listen, children, if you are going to be awake two hours early and deprive your mother of sleep, it would be very smart to not ask her for too many things.  That’s not going to work in your favor.

Have you ever heard such truth in all your life? What a wise man. Thank God for him.

And I smiled as I fumbled with the tea kettle and faucet, which are rather tricky little pieces of machinery at such a dismal time of day.  I noticed how the sun was stretching out across the green grass for the first time in hours and I tried to pretend it wasn’t pretty enough to keep looking.  Whatever, it was lovely or something, that is not the point. Focus, here.

I made some chai, because it’s way too early for coffee, check back with me around nine, when mornings are supposed to begin.  I said, hey, here’s a giant box of toys, make a mess. Hey, there 66 episodes of Diego on Netflix, let’s dive in.  I’m not even going to pretend that I don’t let them watch TV, I have nothing to prove to the collective cohort of parenting judgers who judge.

And then I sat down, because I felt that if I must be awake at least I’d try to make it a semi-entertaining story full of hyperbole and ridiculous statements. I’m surprised my fingers even know how to type right now.

Insert tangent here:  Before the hour we do not speak of, I was dreaming that I woke up on a Monday morning and didn’t finish my final book project for my English class (What, am I 17 again?) So, I convinced my mom to let me skip first hour, so I could make the entire project in time to get to school for second hour.  In my dream, I saw the entire project, based on a book series that I recently finished and in my dream I gave the entire explanation for how this project represented the characters, plots, and themes.  I know, major English nerd. True story.

So, now, I’m sitting here entirely out of words and I’m thinking about actually making that very project  for my kids.  But, mainly, because I want to see if I can replicate what I saw in the last moments of cherished sleep. You know, the ones that were taken from me unjustly and without cause.

Look, if you read this, go ahead and tell me how many times you rolled your eyes at this nonsense of a tale.  You’ll probably want me to know what time your little morning creatures rise and such, which is fine, but it’s not really going to make me want to sleep any less.  I promise. 

I wish I was sleeping right now. I wish this story wasn’t true, sadly, it is. Every non-sleeping detail.

Also, look, if there are typos and grammatical errors, you’ll have to forgive me.  Haven’t I done enough English projects for the day?

1 comment:

  1. Haha! Oh Liv, I completely sympathize. We have a new baby in our home and could the two please, for the love of all that is pure and holy, NOT wake each other up before 8?!?! Please! Sadly, that's not the case.

    Here's to the goodness of coffee and wise husbands. :)


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