I can't sleep in. The baby, of course, wakes me most mornings if I'm not already awake. I hear her fussing, first. She gives voice to that feeling I also have when I first wake up, something like 'ugh, i don't want to wake up, i'm tired, but i'm uncomfortable and now i'm going to have to do something about it.' It's not a long time fussing, though, before she starts talking. "Ba. Ba. Ba," in a happy little-girl voice. "Pa. Pa. Pa."
"Da. Da. Da."
If she's really miserable and crying, it's "Maaa. Maaa. Maaa." That usually means a big diaper, or a small fever, or some other inconvenience.
She's not the only reason I can't sleep in, though. Lying down hurts. It's one thing at bedtime, when I've taken my Arthritis-Strength Tylenol (how long 'til I need a new liver?), but during the night and especially in the morning, when the painkiller has worn off and my muscles are all kinked up from lying on the bed, it hurts. It hurts so much that I don't even like lying in bed -- which is truly a damn shame.
The worst way of all to spend a morning, though, is trying to sleep in and not being able to. Often my saintly husband or my patient au pair has you-wake-her-you-take-her duty when I don't have to work, so I could sleep in --which means I feel like I should sleep in, so I lie there in bed in the darkened room, my back and neck just killing me, yearning for the days I could sleep til 10:00, at least, if life allowed. I spent two hours like that one morning recently, and it really ticked me off. I wasted all that time and was in more pain, to boot. I could have eaten chocolate, read a book, taken a walk, hugged the baby -- or even blogged. I think, never again. I think maybe I will never sleep in again.
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