For me are the absolute worst. I’m sure I’ve written about this before. Haven’t I? If I did, well, here it is again.
Every night I look forward to putting on my PJ’s and heading to my bed to rest in comfort with my memory foam pillow, my cushy pillow to throw an arm over, my little small square pillow (with our names and anniversary date sewn on it) to shield my eyes from any light, and currently because it’s cold out my electric blanket.
I plop down and get under three blankets of comfort. My trustee remote control and several books and magazines are at my side atop my messy nightstand. I look forward to relaxing and watching the “boob tube” or reading at my leisure, sometimes simultaneously(How do I do that?) until I get good and tired and ready to fall asleep. Usually, this whole process takes about an hour sometimes longer. Of course, my husband falls asleep the instant his head hits the pillow, but that’s another topic.
Well, I stopped short of mentioning how agonizing waking up in the mornings is for me. I loathe waking in the early mornings yet I HAVE to do it because my children have to be up at the crack of dawn to ready themselves for school, and oh, yes, I have to actually put food in their stomachs so they can take on the day. Every morning, and it’s not just a recent thing, it’s an all of my life thing, I cringe when I have to get out of bed. It is like having all of my hairs plucked out of the top of my head individually. It’s like a punch in the stomach, or someone telling me I can never sleep again. It is worse than having to clean the bathroom toilets, or unclog a drain, or the worst thing you would never look forward to. You get my point. I don’t like to wake up in the early mornings. I want to wake when my body feels like it, say around 10 a.m. or 11 a.m.? That sounds great. I don’t want someone forcing me to get up, it drives me C – R – A – Z – Y!
I think I married my father, but again, that’s another topic. Flashback to high school and I can vividly remember Dad coming into my bedroom sipping his cup of coffee and shaking the foot of my mattress EVERY morning, not once but twice, saying, “Angie, it’s time to get up. It’s 7 a.m.” I had an alarm clock. It was going to go off. Why? Why’d you have to wake me 2 minutes before it went off? Why? Whyyyyyyyyy-eee???
Flash forward to 2008 and now my husband gets up to wake the children, turns on the hall light making sure to open the door so it hits my face to wake me up. Why?? Whyyyyyyyyyyyyy-eee??? I’m a grown woman. Why can’t I get up when I want to??
It’s a vicious cycle.