It's 5:49am. I've been up since 4:51. At that time, I made both kids get into the bed with me in the spare room so Daddy could sleep. Son was already in our bed--awake--when Daughter started crying for me from the crib. Husband argued he'd been up with her in the middle of the night, so it was my turn. Fair enough. Though it should be noted that I didn't get to bed till 1:30am. Hence the enormously grumptious look on my face right now. Here's what I've been hearing:
"Mama, I'm so boring, I can't sleep."
use me as a pillow
fight over which part of me will be their pillow
one ends up draped over my face
one has an elbow planted deep in my gut
"I smell wine." How does he know it's wine?! We drink pretty rarely. And, sad thing? Though the early part of my evening involved a couple of glasses of wine and a home pedicure while laughing with friends, the reason I went to bed so late was NOT high-jinks and hilarity but work. So I'm not exactly in that still-tipsy, hee hee hee mode that would otherwise make 5:30am more fun.
Gertrude Stein once wrote that the only way one should ever approach a sunrise is from the night before. I'm here to set the record straight. Gertrude, great, nutty writer, infamous partier, friend of Ernest Hemingway and all that Paris ex-pat set, Gertrude, dear lady, sometimes a sunrise should not even be approached from the night before.