Sunday was Father's Day, your father's 41st birthday, and the first day of summer. You were over the moon about your dad's birthday. At 6 am, you came running into our bedroom--you only seem to operate at a full-speed run first thing on weekend mornings--and announced:
It's daddy's birthday! It's not MY birthday. It's daddy's birthday. We are picking up a cake at Dairy Queen. I blow out daddy's candles!
Yesterday morning was a Monday, and I'd had a terrible night of sleep. I'm anxiously awaiting word on whether our grant is getting funded--news that determines whether I have a job for the next five years. I was finally dead asleep when you bounded in at 6 am this morning. This time you silently climbed into bed next to me, clutching your pink stuffed owl and favorite blue blanket. I whispered, "Mama's going to sleep a little longer." You nodded and snuggled in next to me to wait patiently. For the next 20 minutes, I dozed in and out. I would awake to find you staring intently at me with the tip of your nose an inch from mine.
When I finally relented and shuffled off to the bathroom, you hastily bounded out of bed and our cats Freddy and Daisy were hot on your heels. All four of us ended up in our tiny bathroom while I was still bleary-eyed and trying step around all of you to get to the toilet. "Mama. Say good morning to my owl?" you asked hopefully. It took a moment to register in my fuzzy brain, but I smiled and put on the best cheerful morning greeting to your owl that I could muster. You hugged it to your chest and smiled sweetly.
It's hard to be so tired all the time. But I have to keep reminding myself that I will miss this one day--your eagerness to get the day started, to know exactly what we're doing and when we're doing it, to be next to me no matter what I'm doing. For now I will keep stealing naps in my car during my lunch break.
Love,
Mama
