I’m coming to realize that I need a weekend routine. I know that I should try to keep our schedule the same all week long, so weekdays suck less. But I miss sleeping in so very, very much.
I used to have torrid affairs with my bed on weekends, lolling about until the sun was high in the sky. (And, some days, until it was on its way back down again! I feel so naughty even typing that now.) Now, my definition of sleeping in is more like 7:30. Last Sunday, I slept til 9! But I only got away with that because the kids are sick.
I knew, years ago, that Mondays hurt so much because I stayed up til 3 on Saturday night. But I just couldn’t help myself. Now, I have little people to help me, should I start to lapse. (This morning, for instance, I was awakened at 4:30. That’s…still night.) So even sleeping in isn’t really sleeping in anymore.
But I shouldn’t sleep in at all, I’m realizing. If I wait until I have to get up, I literally have to get up. Because Kai is raiding the fridge, or Anya needs help wiping her butt, or there’s a spill (water or juice or urine…if I’m lucky, I am not ground zero for it), or Kai is turning the entire 180-count box of tissues into confetti, or I’ve just been punched in the nose. All the things I like to do when I wake up — stretch and rub my eyes, go pee, put in my contacts, fix a cup of tea, take a few breaths before the chaos descends — none of those things get to happen because I am immediately thrown into a position of reacting. And that makes me one grumpy Mommy.
The other day, I assured Anya that the doctor was absolutely not going to give her a shot. And then became a liar-liar-pants-on-fire when, just as we were leaving, the doctor offhandedly mentioned that they could go ahead and get their flu shots and I took her up on that (I swear, I didn’t know they were available yet). For the rest of the day, Anya informed me she was grumpy — and I heard myself in her. I, too, get grumpy when the day takes a turn I did not expect. (Especially when it involves getting a shot, but lesser things irritate me, too.)
So. I need to establish a weekend routine. We follow the same bedtime routine on weekends as we do during the week, out of consideration for R’s ungodly work schedule (he has to get up at 4 a.m.), but I’ve been playing it fast and loose with our days. We need a wake-up time, too. We need regularly scheduled events. Sure, there’s room for spontaneity, but we need a bare-bones framework to start from.
We’ll start with not sleeping in anymore. That alone ought to help.