Rob and I have always been late-night people. The year before we were married, we would both come home from our late-night jobs around 1:00 am and stay up watching TV and hanging out until around 3:00 am. Then we would get up around noon or so, and hang out until it was time to go to work around 4:00 pm. We were 21 years old. It was awesome.
So, while it can be frustrating sometimes, it’s not surprising to us that our kids are night owls themselves. Except Surrey, but as I’ve said, I’m not entirely 100% convinced she’s actually our biological child, anyways. Most nights the last kid doesn’t drop until around 12:30 am, and Rob doesn’t make it home from work until around that time. So, since we basically work opposite schedules, I stay up and wait for him. Then, like the extreme dummies we are, we usually stay up until 2:00 am watching TV before finally heading to bed. Then someone inevitably wakes up and I actually end up going to bed between 2:00 and 3:00 am.
Every day. Holy shit am I tired.
Even if I get lucky and don’t have to be up for work at 8:00 am, odds are good that Surrey will wake up ready for the day at about the same time or shortly thereafter. This idiotic routine is only going to get worse in a couple of weeks when kindergarten starts, and I have to get up every single day to get her ready and out the door by 8:10 am. Then a few weeks later, preschool starts. Three days a week, I’ll have to get up and get two kids ready for school and be out the door by 7:40 am. Did I mention that none of us (save Surrey!) is a morning person? And that it’s not really acceptable to medicate kids with caffeine in the morning?
Dear fucking Christ it’s going to be awful.
I can hear what you guys are all thinking. “HEY BRO IT SEEMS LIKE YOU SHOULD GO TO BED EARLIER.” And yeah, you’re probably right. I should.
But I won’t.
The time period between 12:30 – 2:00 am is adult time. It’s no-kids time. It’s the one time during the entire day that I can just sit around and do absolutely nothing. I can take a shower without worrying about what that loud thud was or how long I have before the baby starts crying (hint: zero minutes!). It’s time that I can sit and write in peace without being interrupted every two minutes for a hug or some juice or a new TV show. I can pick up the house a little bit and clear a walkway through the toys on the floor. (I won’t, though).
That golden time when every other sane person on Earth is sleeping is my favorite part of the day. It’s the only time Rob and I have together that we’re not distracted by kids or schedules. We watch dumb shows, talk about our day, eat bad food. It’s great. At least once before we actually go to bed one of us says, “Ugh! I should really go to bed!”, but we don’t.
There are days that I wake up after getting five hours of sleep, usually interrupted at least once, barely able to keep my eyes open, where I find myself looking forward to the evening. Not to bedtime, mind you, but instead to precisely 12:30 am, when I’ll get to take a shower, watch COPS, and hang out with my dude like the old days.
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