Suburban Snapshots

All to Myself

Monday, August 09, 2010

One of my favorite places to be is in a big city early in the morning. I love walking around with a paper cup of coffee when nothing's open but train stations and bodegas. It feels like I have the whole world all to myself, the quiet world, just waiting to rumble to life.

Mornings aren't like that anymore. There's really no "all to myself" after I wake — actually, am woken — up. I've given birth to someone who's even more of a morning person than I — offensively so.

At 5:40, Anna either walks adorably into my room wrapped in her blanket, sidles up to my edge of the bed and waits to be scooped up, or stands on her bed screaming frantically for someone to come get her because HEAVEN FORBID she drop the blanket and get to the floor under her own power.

The routine usually involves a stop at the toilet, 64 requests for juice, 5 minutes trying to figure out where we left the TV remote before bed, tuning to PBS Kids ("I want Arfur!"), and hoping she'll be glued long enough for me to make coffee and straighten the kitchen. The mornings when that actually works are fine, I have a few minutes to remember how to string sentences together after my eyes uncross.

The mornings when this doesn't work, well. Those mornings are when I think to myself "I'm going to write a blog post called 'Things I Don't Say Out Loud'." And yes, I do expect a medal for not going all Alec Baldwin on my kid when she starts in with unrelenting demands, overlapping requests for juice, milk, waffles, and popsicles.

She's like a tidal wave of wide awake that I'm just not ready for, and though I voluntarily let Steve sleep in to prep for his days with her, on these mornings I want to wake that sonofabitch up with a fire hose.

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