I remember when I was training to be a dietitian one of my placements was in Bradford. I was staying in Leeds and it was going to be a 90 minute commute each way. This meant leaving the house at 7am. This meant getting up at 6am.
I was shocked.
Genuinely shocked. What was this time 6am? Would I be hearing the cockerels calling?
It seemed that CHUFFING early.
I probably hadn’t really seem 6am since I was a child, pissing my own parents off waking them up. In fact I didn’t actually believe a time like that really existed.
I didn’t know how I was going to do it. I was never going to get up at that time. But you know I did. And I was surprised how many other people were up and about in Leeds train station that early too!! This was the real world. Not the lazy student world, where my earliest time up was 8am and that was on a good day.
The placement ended and after a summer of staying up all night and getting up at almost lunchtime, I moved into the world of full-time work which similarly meant early rises most days. However, the weekends of extra sleep heaven made up for it.
Then I had a baby. Then I had an even bigger brain fart, as I had another.
The early rises are standard aren’t they? Well for most people. My oldest friend from school who I hope won’t mind me saying is one such person who doesn’t have to deal with this. Her daughter is a sleeper. She has to be woken. She’s a kid who will have a late night and then actually catch up and sleep in. I often want to punch my friend when she tells me this.
My girls are good sleepers during the night and I never moan about that, but they get up early. 6am is standard; mainly the eldest but the littlest is starting to follow suit. You think I would be used to it by now. But no.
I hear the pitter patter of tiny feet. I’m half asleep. The door opens with a bang. The gremlin comes bounding in. She is dressed. She is brimming with life. I’m told I will really miss this, when she a teenager in her pit until 12pm (!). I half open an eye. I think perhaps it’s 6.30am. Maybe even 7am? Maybe I have had just a little more sleep this morning.
Nope, it’s 6am or worse….it’s 5…sodding 55am. The time at least has to start with a 6 or all hope is lost. Those two minutes mean EVERYTHING!!!
We have tried ignoring her, telling her to go back to bed and play. The latter is insane as she just goes and wakes up her sister and climbs in her cot. We have a Gro Clock but I have one of those kids. The one who actively presses all the buttons, until it goes orange. I can’t make my mind up if I want to lavish her with love and kisses and beam proudly at her initiative, or throw her out of the window.
“Why do you get up so early?” I ask.
“Because I’m not tired,” she answers. The beautiful logic of a 3 year old.
Recently, hubby and I have been stupid. Blogging, messing around, pillow talk and suddenly it’s 10.45pm. Combine that with taking a bit of time to nod off or little Piglet waking for a feed, I’m a little tired. I am quite often found day dreaming about sleep, talking about sleep and thinking of my bed.
6am I just hate you at the moment.
Can’t you just be 7am for a while???