This morning I was woken by alarm clock at 6:30. On Thursday mornings Jonathan attends a men’s bible study at church and then goes directly to class, so I load all of the children into the van for the round trip mackerdoodle drop off. It means Jonathan isn’t home to push my lazy bones out of bed, so I set my alarm; however most mornings someone hears Jonathan when he showers at 5:30 and by the time he’s heading out the door 6, the children are awake and asking for breakfast.
But this morning I was woken by my alarm.
None of my kids have been great sleepers. The mackerdoodle didn’t sleep through the night until after the cheesedoodle was born, and I was well into uncomfortable pregnancy with the snicker doodle by the time the cheesedoodle was sleeping through. The snicker doodle has followed in the family traditions, plus, with three kids, someone has a cold, or the flu, or falls out of bed or something at least twice a week. I feel like I haven’t had a full night’s sleep since sometime in early 2007.
But this morning I fell asleep at 10:30 and was woken by my alarm.
It is a reminder that this stage of small children is such a short one. When I choose to say “no” to a really great opportunity, or when I can’t jump in and volunteer as much as I used to, or when I can’t have a complete conversation without having to referee some sort of dispute, I will remember that this morning I was woken by my alarm.
The season is so short. It’s definitely worth the sleeplessness and the intense investment.
Of course that’s easy for me to say this morning, because this morning I was woken by my alarm.