No matter how exhausted I am, I procrastinate going to sleep. Life is chaos these days, and I crave the semi-quiet hours after the kids go to bed. So after dinner and dishes and laundry and lunches I like to read or write or contemplate putting the clean laundry away before realizing that’s a terrible use of time. I also like to completely zone out and stare at my phone. The night hours are sacred.
But last night? Last night I went to bed early. EARLY!
I’ve been working out at 5:30 a.m. for the past few weeks, and with intermittently sick kids, sleep has been an endangered commodity in our home. I was giddy with the idea of turning in early and getting some quality rest.
But you know that saying, “[Wo]man plans and God laughs?” Well, let’s talk about how I got that reminder last night.
Here’s my timeline:
9:45 p.m. – I get in bed. Stretched, tossed my hair like a Disney princess, smiled, exhaled deeply and turned on white noise. I triumphantly passed out in 14 seconds from sheer exhaustion.
2:09 a.m. – Jolted awake when Maya wakes up screaming. Enter stage one of denial. Pretend it’s a dream.
2:26 a.m. – Maya continues to scream. I place a pillow over my head and aggressively start willing her to sleep in my mind. This can work, I know it can.
2:34 a.m. – I admit to myself she is not going back to bed, and since she’s been sick, and Jim is sick, I go to check on her. She needs snuggles and Tylenol. I trudge to the kitchen with her.
2:35 a.m. – I near the kitchen and smell something. I can’t quite place it, but it’s bad. Smell Maya’s bum…nope, not the source.
2:35 a.m. – Oh. Oh no. NO NO NO NO. Discover my dog had diarrhea in about 16 spots – all carpeted. Start to gag. Still holding crying baby. Question whether to put baby down to clean up poop, or desert the poop minefield to get the baby to sleep. Baby wins.
2:50 a.m. – Finally get Maya back to bed. Spend 20 minutes cleaning up dog poop, questioning my existence and true purpose in life. Lots of swearing. Gagging. Mild rage.
3 a.m. – Go back to bed. Too mad to sleep. Then even madder I’m wasting precious sleep time being mad about dog shit.
5 a.m. – Alarm goes off to work out. NO NO NO NO. Too early. Snooze.
5:10 a.m. – Re-awaken to a strange noise. It’s Lila singing “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” at the top of her lungs, two hours before she usually wakes up. Again question my existence.
5:11 a.m. – Enter Lila’s room to discover every single toy and book strewn about. It’s basically like her room was struck by a violent toy tornado. The damage is impressive and terrifying all at once. I tell her to go back to bed and she launches into a most insane tantrum. This kid wakes up happy every single day. Why today was the once-in-a-lifetime anomaly I have no idea.
5:30 a.m. – Get Lila calm and settled through a series of positive reinforcement, hugs and shameless bribes. YOU CAN HAVE SPRINKLES FOR BREAKFAST. Eat my pre-workout meal. Curse my dog a few more times.
5:40: a.m. – Start workout. Initially feel like an uncoordinated donkey. End up feeling like a majestic unicorn gladiator.
6:30 a.m. – About to finish workout, feeling slightly redeemed about my life. Maya starts crying. I pause my workout to go and get her. She immediately poops. NOOOO I HAVE ONE MORE SET OF EXERCISES LEFT. Again the quandary of trying to finish something but needing to clean up poop. My OCD tendencies are having a ball with this one. Alas, the poop must wait as I finish the last few minutes of my workout.