My daughter is seemingly incapable of making it until 7 a.m. on her own in her own bed. She's done it a handful of times; while I've tried to recreate the days schedule when it does happen, I've not been successful. Inevitably, about 5 a.m. she wakes, I stumble from my bed to hers, sweep her up and whisk her off to the comforts of my bed. She quickly returns to sleep. Around 7 I start to feel her stirring, then about 7:02 I receive a quick, uncontrolled, smack in me eyeball or nose. She is awake and wants me to be as well. She makes herself heard with the morning abuse routine. She'll pull my hair, pinch my nose, or squeeze my lip between her tiny fingers with the strength of an Olympic athlete. Super human infant strength.
Then our morning begins, and slowly at that. We lay in bed for thirty minutes playing with my hair and face, tickling her neck, and showering her with snuggles and kisses. She falls into my neck with her mouth open, gums exposed, and tries to kiss me back. She makes the sounds of infancy. She grunts, screams, giggles, and spit covers my pajamas.
Before I had a baby morning was my enemy. I was late to work all of the time because I hated getting up. My husband, a born morning person, referred to me as the bear. "Try not to wake the bear..." he'd warn overnight guests. He'd bring me coffee on the weekends in hopes of waking me peacefully. He quickly learned that tickling me was not the way to wake the bear; removing the covers didn't work either. He worried when I was pregnant, what will happen when we have the baby? Fortunately, the baby changed everything about morning for me. My baby wakes up every morning in a good mood, happy in fact. It is so contagious that the bear in me retreated and in its place a happy, silly mommy has moved in.
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