******This was a post originally written on my other blog back in March 2014*******
******Hang in there, I will post something new soon. I am working on combining my blogs******
It's quiet. I'm getting my much-needed "alone time" that I demand each day. If my husband were reading this he would assume (incorrectly) that I am writing this late at night. I'm a night owl, and something in me has always bristled at being told when to sleep and not to sleep. So I enjoy late nights while my family snores in their beds, and I growl at those who try to pry me from "el vientre" before I am ready.
"El vientre?" It's Spanish for "the womb". Years ago, when partying with some of my Mexican friends, we'd all crash late at night. It would only take one person to start moving around and clanking breakfast dishes to break the magical spell of that wonderful sleep that finally happens after one has slept off the alcohol. Inevitably that one person would be the one who drank the least the night prior. Shame on them! Soon my other friends would begin to stir, and groggily yet cheerfully they'd throw off their blankets, until one by one they would all succumb to the morning bird peer pressure. Not me. After quite a few times of being teased about being "flojita" (lazy) in the morning, I told them that I am too comfy to get out of bed, that I felt like I was being torn from "el vientre."
In earlier years, I would be the last one to fall asleep at a slumber party, and the last to arise in the morning. My friends would be giggling and chomping on cinnamon rolls, and I'd be groaning and crabbing at them for making too much noise. On school days I would only eat breakfast if I had the kitchen to myself so as not to have to talk to anyone. One summer during college years I worked at my dad's office and commuted with him each morning. My one rule was "Don't talk to me until I've had at least one cup of coffee."
Two words that have always made me curl my upper lip into a snarl are "morning" and "breakfast". To me they are just too cheerful-sounding for my overly sensitive, dawn-hating ears.
Morning Person: "Good morning! What would you like for breakfast?"
Me: "How about a nice big cup of 'Shut the hell up and let me go back to bed?' "
I've always been a bear in the morning. I've been known to throw out some pretty cutting remarks at innocent morning people. I'm not proud of the following occurrences, but in order to fully illustrate my craziness I will take one for the art of blogging and risk having you dislike me.
1. I was about 18 years old and was on a trip with the youth group from church. A few of us girls shared a hotel room. I could set the story up to lay out my defense and tell you how cozy I was on the comfy hotel mattress with the thermostat set at just the right temperature and the curtains drawn to create a perfect, pitch black sleeping environment, but that would be a ploy to gain your support. One of the sweetest friends I ever had was a very light sleeper, and she was almost always the first one to get up in the morning. This trip was no exception. To my sleepy brain and ears, the noise she made in getting out of bed, taking a shower, and turning on her blow dryer may as well have been explosives going off next to my bed. I said (brace yourself, it's mean), "I feel sorry for whoever you end up marrying!" She gave me the silent treatment for most of the morning, as I recall. I can't say I blame her.
2. About 7 years after the previous incident, I was in Mexico, staying with my then boyfriend's' (now husband's) family for a few months. You probably know that most families who live in Mexico have a maid, whether part-time or live-in. Anyway, my in-laws were sort of "between maids" and were trying some out during the course of my stay. At one point they had a young woman come from a neighboring ranchito (a very rural place) and she was accustomed to rising hours before the rooster to get started on daily chores. I had been sleeping in the room next to the kitchen, and at 3:30 in the morning she was clanging pots and pans and utensils around like nobody's business. Not only that, but her shoes had hard soles, and I could hear her coming down the wooden stairs on the way to the kitchen, and every step she would take while mopping the floor (how dirty could it possibly be, if it was just mopped and swept late afternoon the day before?!) was like a mockery to my senses. On the 2nd or 3rd night of this, I couldn't control myself. Let's just say that the bear emerged from her den, and she was not happy. I confronted the poor, surprised little wisp of a girl and accusingly asked her in Spanish what in God's name she was doing awake at this hour making such a racket in the room next to where I am sleeping. I told her to go back to bed. In the morning I confessed my transgressions to my mother-in-law, who had a good laugh over the matter and smoothed things over with the maid, telling her to not get up so early, because she wouldn't want to wake the Incredible Hulk.
Okay, so I'm a little dramatic at times. So is my son. He doesn't like going to bed early either. The problem is, he tends to get up fairly early. Okay, well... "fairly early" by my standards. He is also very persistent about having other people awake along with him. In fact, he doesn't seem to want to allow anyone to sleep if he is awake. He has been this way since birth. Homeschooling is perfect for him and me, because we start our day whenever we feel like it. But he always gets up before me and taps on my head every 15 minutes until I drag my butt out of bed.
The other night I made a decision. I decided to try to go to bed when he does, and get up before he does. That way I could have my "me time" in the morning and de-crabbify myself with coffee and writing before he gets up. It's made for a couple of productive days of morning blogging. Two days down, and so far, so good.
We'll see how long I last. All I know is that if anyone tries to demand that I wake up or go to sleep at these times, I'll go back to my night owl ways. I am nothing if not stubborn.