It’s 7:23 AM and I’ve already been up for one hour and eight minutes.
On a flipping Sunday.
Pre 7AM starts are strictly not allowed in our house, yet they still seem to be happening, despite the fact that no one in their right mind would ever want to encounter me when there is still a six on the clock.
So here I am. One hour and 10 minutes into the day. Wishing it was over already so I could go back to bed.
But, it’s not. So here’s what I’ll be doing instead:
1. Crying. It’s ok to mourn the lie-in I will never have again.
2. Calculate the kids’ value on eBay, not mentioning the ‘early risers’ part.
3. Cursing all the neighbors whose houses are still in complete darkness.
4. Regretting having watched ‘just one more’ episode of Breaking Bad the night before.
5. Checking Facebook and Twitter and connecting with other insomniac parents.
6. Drawing up rules, reward charts and incentive schemes to keep kids in bed until 7:00 AM (these will be abandoned by next weekend when they will fail miserably and I’ll start the whole, sorry process again).
7. Eating breakfast. Even though this means I’ll be serving lunch at 10:30 AM.
8. Drafting an email to Fisher Price telling them their toddler clock is crap. That my child worked out how to ‘bring the sun up’ on day two. The sun now appears randomly at 4:00 AM, 5:00 AM and 6:00 AM.
9. Imagining all the things I could achieve … If I weren’t so damn tired.
10. Nodding off. And repeating. For the rest of the day.
See you tomorrow at 6:00 AM, folks!