Sunday, February 27, 2011

Despicable Me

There was once a time when the early morning hours were mine alone.

Mojo and the Peep are sleepers. They love their sleep, they crave it, they cherish it like a rare, delightful treasure, and whenever possible they indulge themselves by drowsing on into the late forenoon. And that was always fine with me.
I could get up early and make coffee, savor the rich scent and the dark, earthy taste in silence. I could read, or exercise, or go on-line. It was my private world before the rest of the family got out of bed.

But now I have another early riser; Little Miss is seldom asleep past six and often awake before five. She's never noisy or fretful. She comes stumping out, her little legs determined as her eyes are still full of sleep. She wants to be cuddled, and happily crawls up in my arms and curls onto my lap.So I feel like a real heel resenting the loss of my private mornings.

But I do; as sweet and quiet as she is, the girl won't be ignored or put by; any attempt to park her on the couch or in front of the television results in a monumental sulk, and this girl is an expert sulker; once you've hit the "sulk" button it's nearly impossible to reset - she will fuss and fume for a good hour or so.And even the semi-silence of her immediate snuggling is transient. Soon she is fully awake and wants to play, or use the computer. And I'm reminded of the old saying about playing catch with a dog; you will tire of it long before the dog does. So with Barbies or ponies or LEGOs. There are only so many scenarios the girl can invent, and we usually run through them all inside of five minutes or so. After that the only variable is how durable my patience is; the eventual consuption of it is never in doubt.
So I feel like even more of a lout; I love my little girl and all she wants to do is share my time. But I resent, somewhere ranging from mildly to bitterly, the loss; like a miserly old curmudgeon, I am ungracious about dividing the early hours of the day with this child who loves and depends on me. God, how despicable can I be?

I suspect that this says something truly unflattering about me, and in my better moments I try and staple a smiling face over my bad attitude. But then comes the thumping of the little feet down the morning hallway and my smile fades like the stars in the sunrise.


Pluto said...

I don't think this says anything negative about you except that you had a good deal and don't have it anymore.

I was in a similar position but went through multiple stages:
1) The one you're in now. Not so fun.
2) The kids grew up enough to be able to entertain themselves/ask interesting questions
3) The kids became teenagers and now sleep late on weekends. Last weekend my younger son slept in until 12:30 PM when I woke him up. We also think he grew an inch that weekend.
4) They're going to leave me for other places in a few more years and I'm not sure I'm that happy going back to the original system

FDChief said...

I do know that I will miss her cute, cuddly little self when she grows bigger and doesn't want or need tha morning snuggle anymore. And that just makes me feel even more like a bastard.

It's not a really big problem, and she's so sweet that I can't stay irked with her. But every so often my bad attitude bites me on the ass and reminds me that I'm not a very nice person sometimes...

Lisa said...

Like Pluto, I don't think this says anything negative about you. We all need recharge time; people like you and me especially need reflective time. You had carved out a niche now denied to you, lest you place her on the sofa at which time you feel guilt.

I feel you shouldn't as children are practiced egotists; as long as you do give some time attention (which you do), your private time should be sacrosanct. She will pout, but you will benefit by being able to avoid the inevitable resentment of your deprivation.