10 October 2009

Kaitlyn at the crack of dawn

If you're reading this, then I am sorry.

It means you're awake on a Saturday morning before dawn, a time reserved for restful dreams. It means you're either: a) sick; b) protecting the rest of us; or c) with a child who doesn't understand sleeping in.

The mornings with Kaitlyn are some of the best times of the day. She wakes up calling our names and -- when one of us finally arrives after fumbling around half asleep trying to avoid inanimate objects -- lifts her arms toward us. She rests her head on our shoulder as we carry her into bed with us, just for a moment, and she gives big hugs and kisses.

I only wish she would do it at 8:30 a.m.

She regularly stirs between 6 and 6:30 a.m., weekday or weekend. We stopped setting alarm clocks because she is so regular. She doesn't go back to bed, either; hasn't since she was only a couple months old. When she's up, she's up until nap time (a long, long, long five-plus hours away from when she wakey-wakeys).

In the summer, this wasn't so bad. The sun began rising before Kaitlyn, so at least you could "start your day" or something. Now, as the crisp morning air replaces the warm sunlight, it's getting a little tougher. A lighter shade of darkness creeps into your eyes when they open.

"Daddy, Daddy."

You instinctively want to close your eyes again, thinking it was all a dream. You see the streetlights still beaming brightly and reflecting off the cars. You want to rest your head back on that pillow and curl up, the brisk air coming through the windows.

"Daddy, Daddy."

You realize the battle is futile, so you rise and stumble without hitting a dresser, tripping over a pair of shoes or stubbing your toe on the previous day's random toy sitting in the path between the bed and the nursery.

But then it all fades. You realize (again) this is one of the best times of the day. So I sit here now, the clock just passing 7 a.m. and Winnie the Pooh captivating my daughter while I write and prepare my coffee. There's only on thing on my mind:

Where the heck is Michelle? Oh yeah, sleeping and dreaming those restful dreams.

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