Early Morning Visitor

With fog in my head and haze in my eyes I saw my 3-year-old son standing next to my bed in the wee hours of the morning. I recall asking him if he had to use the bathroom, but I don’t recall his answer because of the exhaustion that plagued me. At seven months pregnant, the loss or interruption of sleep is a constant annoyance. However, on this morning I didn’t let my annoyance get the best of me… I just wanted to go back to sleep.

I struggle to move over as far as I can – a little hindered by the mounds of pillows that surround me. When I finally make enough room he climbs onto the bed and settles in. Well, at least he tries to settle in. I’m warm, but he wants the covers. So we cover up. I doze off. He wiggles. I readjust and doze off. He wiggles. I doze off then wake up sweating. He wiggles. I turn to my husband who is oblivious and way too close! Not enough room to move over further. I turn on a fan. Settle in again. And he wiggles…

This goes on for most of the night until I fall into an exhausted slumber. No more concern if my toddler falls off the bed. No more concern that he wants the covers. Just pure, blissful, restful sleep and then I hear it. It’s faint at first. “Mommy.” … “Mooommmyyyy…” The calling gets louder.

I sigh. My 2-year-old daughter who still sleeps in a crib (that’s another story altogether) has awakened and discovered her brother missing. So, who does she call? Mommy, of course.

With great effort I maneuver around the sleeping 3 year old. Plop to the floor with sleeping cap still in place. In the hallway I pass my teenage daughter as she rushes to her room to get dressed for school. I stumble into the toddlers’ room and scoop up my youngest daughter (well, youngest for the next two months). She immediately snuggles her face in my neck and we slowly sway to the bathroom.

Although the bed beckons me; potty training controls me. We both potty and I entertain thoughts of going back to bed (for just a moment) and snoozing among the pillows, toddlers, rumbled blankets and out-like-a-light husband.

I grab the baby’s hand and we start down the hallway, but guess who intercepts our path to the bed? My early morning visitor enthusiastically bounds out yelling, “Good morning, Amareah” to his sister. What’s the point? Even if I manage to lay down for a few more minutes my teenager – who has been running late everyday this week – will rush in to say good-bye; my husband will stretch noisily and the toddlers will either argue about what to watch on television, what to play with or when they’re going to eat.

What seemed to start as a simple early morning visit was actually the beginning of my day. As I make waffles and toast (one toddler has decided to boycott waffles) I wonder, dream, imagine and wish for a night of uninterrupted sleep. A day of sleeping late. And hours of morning quiet.

For now, my future holds more of the same: With a little extra nighttime risings as well as nighttime diaper changes and feedings thanks to a newborn baby. Hey, maybe I shouldn’t complain about early morning visits so much!