This post is part of ChicagoNow’s monthly “Blogapalooza” challenge where bloggers are given a prompt at 9 PM and one hour to complete a post on the topic. Tonight’s challenge was,
“Write about a habit or routine of yours that you would either like to break or that you hope never ends.”
I have a routine that I hope never ends, but of course as my grandfather used to say, “All good things must come to an end.” I already see the writing on the wall with this one. I love sleeping as late as my newborn does. She is just five months old and as much as I complain that I’d like her to sleep through the night (isn’t it time yet?!?) I also love that she wakes up around eight or nine in the morning, and after a quick feed, goes back to sleep until eleven or, gasp, noon. The tide is already changing as she slowly makes her way to waking up only once a night instead of twice, so now she sleeps till ten and is up for the day, but for now, that magic time of late morning sleep is heavenly. I have completely convinced myself that it’s all right for me to go back to sleep for these couple of hours instead of let’s say, getting some work some done on the computer, exercising, doing a load or three of laundry, or even just zoning out and watching reality television. It’s not going to happen. If she’s sleeping the morning away, then so am I.
Believe me, I pay for it the rest of the day. Her naps throughout the afternoon and evening are never longer that fifty minutes, which, I’m told by other moms is still really good. Here’s the kicker, until recently, like last week, she wouldn’t crash until ten thirty or eleven at night, yes, she’d hang out and chill with her parents, and most nights go to bed later that her dear dad. She’s a night bird, just like me. I used to HATE getting up early. As in, my mother would have to threaten to pour water on my head many mornings throughout high school. I loved my bed. I never had an early morning class in college, and by early, I mean before eleven. I was lucky to end up working in the entertainment industry in Los Angeles where most of my bosses strolled in around nine thirty or ten, so I never experienced the six o’clock alarm clock craziness. Even when I worked as a radio producer I was blessed with the mid-day show, so I practically had bankers’ hours, a rarity in radio.
Other parents have told me to hold on to this golden time because if we have another baby this experience won’t be repeated. That scares the shit out of me. I guess the thought of having another baby is what should scare the shit out of me, but no, it’s the thought of losing my morning siestas that freaks me out. I love the quietness of the day. I love knowing that there’s really no other place I need to be or any where else I’m needed. My baby will let me know when my official work day starts and I’ll be there for her, well rested and ready.