Last night Howard and I were both self-indulgent. Howard had rented the xbox game Fable which had to go back this morning, so he wanted to play as much as he could. I had a book (The Golden Key by Melanie Rawn et al) and was luxuriating in being able to disappear into the story without cries of “Mooo-ooom!” dragging me back. We both stayed up until 2 am. There is something really wonderfully fun about staying up way too late doing something you enjoy. For parents it is a guilty pleasure though, because you know you’ll pay for it big time the next day and so will the kids.
Patches was cheerfully awake at his usual hour (7:30 am). Gleek started hollering for me at 8am and that was the end of sleep. I dragged myself out of bed and into the kitchen where I found a kitchen full of dirty dishes and no counterspace anywhere. I shoved dishes aside, making teetering stacks in the sink, trying to create enough space to make french toast. Before anyone oohs or ahhs over the fact that I made french toast for kids on 6 hours of sleep, I should point out that making breakfast is just self defense. If I don’t fill up the noisy holes with food, they will continue to be noisy at me. Like fledgling birds, my children are capable of foraging for themselves, but they find it much simpler to flutter helplessly and holler until I put something in their mouths.
After breakfast my body switched into one of those high-energy not-enough-sleep-so-I’m-hyper modes. The kids’ work is mostly done. My work is mostly done. In theory I can enjoy a peaceful afternoon. But I suspect that if things get too peaceful, I’ll crash into a nap.