I’m a night owl. It’s just part of who I am. As the sun sets, I can feel the excitement build throughout my body, and I get my second wind the moment night descends. It doesn’t matter how tired I was or how little sleep I got; I’m reborn at night. Carpe noctem.
Which brings me to the belief that there is a God, and She has a wicked sense of humor.
I spent two years as a cashier at Home Depot. (It’s amazing what doors open with a liberal arts degree.) I wasn’t just A cashier; I was an OPENING cashier. I had to punch in with eyes open, apron on at 6am, which meant I was rolling out of bed at 5am. Remember, night person? Not a good mix. My supervisor and I came to a compromise. I had to fake friendliness, but I didn’t have to be perky. Because they did NOT pay me enough to be perky. I had to adjust my attitude slightly. I looked for something to smile about in the early mornings, maybe seeing the sunrise, knowing I would be home two hours before everyone else, the smell of mist and flowers first thing in the morning. Besides I have the uncanny ability to fall asleep and wake up in 14 minutes.
Then motherhood came, and I left the job because I didn’t want to pay for the pleasure of working as a cashier. (Let me allude to The Office. If I work any harder, it would be a career, and then I would have to kill myself.) Then God’s sick sense of humor struck. I birthed morning people. And it got worse. Do you know what’s worse than living off of too little sleep? Living off broken sleep. Tornado E was a horrible sleeper from day one, AND he got up at the crack of dawn. I was ready to shoot myself for the chance to stay in a hospital and sleep. Oh, and I got bitter because The Husband got to sleep in, even though he did not get up in the middle of the night to soothe a crying baby. I’m not a fast learner; it took me a while to realize being grumpy and bitter kind of sucks. Really sucks. So I decided to fake it. I looked for reasons to be happy that I was up with the sun, a laugh from Tornado E, a new discovery, a new phrase. Instead of being all bitter that The Husband slept, I started to feel sorry for him. Look at what he was missing.
Which brings me to today. This morning. Writing while I should be getting ready and getting the boys ready, I had to turn my view a few degrees to the left. As a night person, I have been finding a reason to stay up late. Probably much too late, but then I find sleep over-rated. Then you add the three morning people who rise before the sun and need to be fed, dressed, and commanded to get moving. I can handle this and fake alert happiness. I’m an awesome actress. But today I had two boys in my bed at 5am, discussing how they want to sleep at a friend’s house. (The house has Tornado E’s girlfriend and Tornado S’s best friend. You can see the draw.) After a half hour of trying to sleep because it’s FIVE IN THE MORNING (God, I thought they got rid of that time.) I sent them back to their own beds. And then God’s sick sense of humor kicked in because two minutes later, Tornado A was up and crying. For the love of God! I popped in a binky, laid him down, and basically hit the snooze button for another half hour. I was up and grumpy. I made breakfast, and then I sent a rant to my best friend. Then as I stood over the breakfast proceedings, I realized I could be in a foul mood or not.
And I choose . . . not.
Now as for those afternoons. They’re a different story. I can’t fake those. I’m all for a siesta culture.