If anyone were to ask me what my feelings are about sleep, the sure answer would be "I LOVE IT." I prefer late, late nights and late mornings. This, however, is NOT compatible with three young children. For a year I have balked against waking up before 7am and even that seemed a travesty some mornings. I have spent the majority of the last four years in various stages of pregnancy and many sleepless months of newborns. There have been innumerous time in those years, where the best sleep I could get happened between the hours of 7am and 10am, obviously the 10am sleep was when I had one child.
I'm not big on a set routine or schedule. I take each day as it comes. I do set goals for my days and weeks, thinking I want to get X done today or by the end of the week. It's worked fairly well. Life is changing a bit from the toddler years of family life to something that I've known for years would require me to be a little more routine and yes, wake up early. There are many new things taking place this year with the girls and also with having three, I have more than enough to do. So where to get the extra hours of 'no kid' time to accomplish my lists? Yep, before 7am. Bleh.
Now, I get up at 4:30 (the idea still sends shocks through my body which only two cups of coffee can help). Bleary eyed and confused about why 4:30 came so soon, I head to the YMCA. It's getting better. The older gentleman at the desk now greets me by name, and now I know that his name is Ray. He always makes me smile, this man that is Clarence Oddbody reincarnated (think 'It's a Wonderful Life angel). I make it back to the house by 5:45 and start the coffee before Keith is headed out the door. It's at this point, I hope to make use of at least two hours before my darlings wake up and hit the house full-force.
This sounds great, but for the dog. What on earth is wrong with our dog? He wakes up about the time Keith is ready to leave. He believes in his mind that once he's awake, everyone else should be, too. He knows that the sure fire way of getting the household up and moving is to wake Caelan. His collar, complete with rabi and license tags, jingle ridiculously loud. All he has to do is shake. But he takes the whole 'waking' Caelan up a bit further and jumps on her bed to shake. Wretched dog! Once Caelan is up, it's over. The morning is shot. So, he is not sleeping with her anymore and her door stays closed overnight to keep him out.
I have even shut him behind the doors of the kitchen and dining room downstairs to keep him from waking the kids. This calm, well-behaved dog became demon-possessed, wailing and carrying on and throwing his body at the doors. No kidding. It's insane. I thought the problem was fixed with shutting Caelan's door, but this dog is a smart one. He goes into McKenna's room, through my bedroom, and shakes to wake this kid up. He never tries to wake Evelynn who has inherited her mother's love of sleep. A train could hit the house and she would never know it. He knows that Caelan and McKenna are his best bets.
Now, as soon as I hear him shake, he's in big trouble. And he knows it. I catch his eye and he is plainly communicating his intentions. The basement is the next place he will end up if this continues. I don't willingly get up at 4:30am so the dog can get my day started with the kids by 6 or 7am. No way. It goes against every reason I have for getting up that early. Well, except for maybe going to the Y. But if the kids are going to get up that early, something has to give. I'm at war with this dog. He has no reason for them to be awake because once they are awake, he ignores them. I think he has a personal vendetta against me. Wretched, wretched dog.
