We have a new morning routine. You wouldn't think my morning routine would mean much to a die-hard night owl like me, but it does and I'm not used to it yet.
Up until a few weeks ago, I'd get up and write some junk in my notebook when the alarm went off at 6:45 am. Then Mike and I would wake Nick, make his lunch, and chatter with Mike in the kitchen as we danced around in the very small space there. Nick would get his breakfast, grab a shower and the alarm would give Nick the ten minute warning. (Have I ever told you that I love my iPhone? I have four or five different alarms set on it to streamline my week!) The boing-boing sound was more effective than my nagging and if Nick wasn't ready at all, he could get his act together and still catch the bus in those last ten minutes. Around that time, I'd kiss Mike goodbye and usually I'd follow him downstairs to chat a bit more while he put his shoes on. Then, I'd stand at the window and wait to see if he looked up and waved. He started doing that more than fifteen years ago and it always struck me as warm and cheerful, so I try to be there when he looks up. Nick would crash out of the house at 7:52, never looking back, and the bus would come at 7:54 and I'd be on my own again. Now, that was a routine that I liked.
Now, my morning routine has changed because Mike has decided to keep getting up at the same time after daylight savings ended and because of Teddy. Now, when you're out and about with the cutest puppy in the world, you can't really complain about the schedule he makes you keep. You can talk about all the cute tricks he can already do, speculate about his heritage, and generally admire his soft fur, floppy ears, and the cute way he stands on the feet of people he likes. Some of the time, I'm standing there wishing people would let me complain about the hours Teddy makes me keep, but they just say, "Oh, it's like having a baby in the house, but it's over more quickly." That's it for compassion regarding puppy-induced sleep-deprivation. I shouldn't ask for more, their faces say. I should be buoyed up by his cuteness.
These days, I get up once in the night, then at 5:20 am, if Teddy doesn't wake me up, Seth walks around the bed crying as if the house is on fire. I always lie there thinking that I could have slept more than another hour if the cat would just leave me alone. Even if I'm quiet, Seth's wailing causes Teddy to wake up and then he whines that he needs to go out. When I open his crate, he lies there for a bit looking up at me as if to say, "I really have to pee, but this sleeping bag is so warm and cozy, I don't want to get out of it." Eventually, he comes out and I hustle him up the stairs past the pee spot he was surreptitiously using on our way outside. I get completely woken up by the cold fresh air, the drizzle on my head, and the wetness seeping into my socks through those handy ventilators on the sides of my dirty pink knock-off Crocs.
Then, if Teddy gives me the jackpot, doing everything he can do out in the backyard, I can relax a bit. I've been trying to go back to sleep at 5:45 for that last much-needed hour of sleep. By then, Mike is in the shower and when my alarm finally goes off for real at 6:45, he has gone. He told me he likes getting in ahead of the traffic, that he can come home earlier at night. He told me that by leaving me be, he's trying to let me sleep as much as I can, but I feel bereft at his absence. No making-lunch dance in my narrow kitchen, no morning chatter, no waking Nickie up together, and no wave. I miss the wave.
Thank you for listening, jb
Up until a few weeks ago, I'd get up and write some junk in my notebook when the alarm went off at 6:45 am. Then Mike and I would wake Nick, make his lunch, and chatter with Mike in the kitchen as we danced around in the very small space there. Nick would get his breakfast, grab a shower and the alarm would give Nick the ten minute warning. (Have I ever told you that I love my iPhone? I have four or five different alarms set on it to streamline my week!) The boing-boing sound was more effective than my nagging and if Nick wasn't ready at all, he could get his act together and still catch the bus in those last ten minutes. Around that time, I'd kiss Mike goodbye and usually I'd follow him downstairs to chat a bit more while he put his shoes on. Then, I'd stand at the window and wait to see if he looked up and waved. He started doing that more than fifteen years ago and it always struck me as warm and cheerful, so I try to be there when he looks up. Nick would crash out of the house at 7:52, never looking back, and the bus would come at 7:54 and I'd be on my own again. Now, that was a routine that I liked.
Now, my morning routine has changed because Mike has decided to keep getting up at the same time after daylight savings ended and because of Teddy. Now, when you're out and about with the cutest puppy in the world, you can't really complain about the schedule he makes you keep. You can talk about all the cute tricks he can already do, speculate about his heritage, and generally admire his soft fur, floppy ears, and the cute way he stands on the feet of people he likes. Some of the time, I'm standing there wishing people would let me complain about the hours Teddy makes me keep, but they just say, "Oh, it's like having a baby in the house, but it's over more quickly." That's it for compassion regarding puppy-induced sleep-deprivation. I shouldn't ask for more, their faces say. I should be buoyed up by his cuteness.
These days, I get up once in the night, then at 5:20 am, if Teddy doesn't wake me up, Seth walks around the bed crying as if the house is on fire. I always lie there thinking that I could have slept more than another hour if the cat would just leave me alone. Even if I'm quiet, Seth's wailing causes Teddy to wake up and then he whines that he needs to go out. When I open his crate, he lies there for a bit looking up at me as if to say, "I really have to pee, but this sleeping bag is so warm and cozy, I don't want to get out of it." Eventually, he comes out and I hustle him up the stairs past the pee spot he was surreptitiously using on our way outside. I get completely woken up by the cold fresh air, the drizzle on my head, and the wetness seeping into my socks through those handy ventilators on the sides of my dirty pink knock-off Crocs.
Then, if Teddy gives me the jackpot, doing everything he can do out in the backyard, I can relax a bit. I've been trying to go back to sleep at 5:45 for that last much-needed hour of sleep. By then, Mike is in the shower and when my alarm finally goes off for real at 6:45, he has gone. He told me he likes getting in ahead of the traffic, that he can come home earlier at night. He told me that by leaving me be, he's trying to let me sleep as much as I can, but I feel bereft at his absence. No making-lunch dance in my narrow kitchen, no morning chatter, no waking Nickie up together, and no wave. I miss the wave.
Thank you for listening, jb
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