Why I Don't Sleep Late On Saturdays

Saturday used to be such a lazy day.  When we were in college and for nearly five years after, we could sleep till 10 or 11 o’clock in the morning.  With the advent of children, that has drastically changed.  No matter how late we go to bed at night, I’m assured to be woken up around 6 a.m.  It does wear on you after a while.  In fact, I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t at least kind of tired.

Why don’t I just tell the kids not to bother me on Saturday morning?  Well we haven’t quite reached the point in their development where that is feasible.  You see, toddler time runs differently than adult time.  If Gage has been awake for more than 10 minutes, he feels as though if half the day is already gone.  Griffin is starting to get the hang of it, but occasionally still thinks everything that happened in the past actually took place yesterday.

So, when I tell my boys to play quietly in their room until we get up, this is what happens:

6:03 a.m.

Two pairs of feet tip-toe up to my side of the bed

Griffin:  “Daddy, can I watch something on TV?

Me (groggily):  “You woke me up to ask about TV?  No.  Go to your room.”

Gage:  “I want some Eggo waffles.”

Me (growing irritated):  “Go play in your room, I’ll feed you in a little bit.”

6:07 a.m.

I am violently ripped from my slumber as one of the children dump a large container of Die Cast Matchbox cars on their bedroom floor…with their door opened.  I get out of bed, tromp through the hall and tell them, in no uncertain terms, that they are to keep their door closed and play quietly.  Then, I go back to bed.

6:23 a.m.

A nagging, drumming sound coaxes me from my precious 15 minutes respite.  Something’s not right.  That drumming sound is getting louder.  I trudge out into the living room where the boys have dismantled their plastic alligator see-saw.  At current, they are using the handles to mercilessly beat the lifeless alligator.  How this hasn’t awakened sister, I do not understand, but the troublesome two are sent back to their bedroom amid protests of boredom and hunger.

6:37 a.m.

A wail like an air raid siren rattles me from the bed.  We are either being invaded or Gage is hurt.  It turns out to be the latter.  Passing by the nursery, I sourly note that sister is now awake and powering toward full steam.  The boys have taken fixing breakfast into their own hands.  Griffin is toasting Eggo waffles and eating them dry.  Amid watching his brother, while perched upon a laundry basket, Gage has fallen onto the tile floor.

At this point, the chances of nabbing a little extra shut-eye have dwindled to nothing.  Maybe if we get some breakfast fixed, and if we don’t have anywhere else to go, and if there’s not too many chores to get done around the house, and if all the children take a nap about the same time, then we might be able to sneak in a little nap too.

I realize that there’s a whole lot of ‘If’ coming off of that plan…but maybe we'll get lucky.

(*Shakes Magic 8-ball*) – “Outlook not so good”