What Sleeping In Means At My House.
Hey all – welcome to the very first edition of “A morning in the life of Kate.” Today was a pretty crazy day at work, but crazy these days is par for the course. What’s NOT par for the course is sleeping in! It’s been a while since I completely disregarded the alarm function on my phone, and made plans to actively sleep in. I even popped a Benedryl to facilitate a super sleep. Well, allow me to brief you on how the morning went:
1:48 a.m. – Wake up to use the restroom… Carefully, so as not to wake the dogs up. Notice that they are not in the bedroom. Breathe a sigh of relief — waking the dogs up is a dangerous business.
3 a.m. – Rollover. Carefully, so as not to wake the dogs up. Epic fail. Hear scrambling as Phish drags himself up to rest his face on the edge of the bed.
3:02 a.m. – “Phish, it’s bedtime. Go lay down.” Phish flops down next to the bed. I roll over to face to another way.
3:05 a.m. – Thunk thunk thunk. Sound of a tail whacking against the wall.
3:07 a.m. – Roll back over. Phish’s face is on the edge of the bed again. He licks my nose. “Phish. It’s BEDTIME.” Close my eyes.
3:08 a.m. – Puppy whimper. I open one eye. Phish huffs in my face. The tail is still thunking against the wall.
3:09 a.m. I drag myself out of bed (and my Benedryl stupor) and walk out to the living room. Layla propels herself off of the couch while farting simultaneously. She hits her face on the doorknob trying to get outside. Both dogs bolt out the door, barking at nothing. The neighbors hate us. I use the restroom again.
3:10 a.m. – Pound half a can of Diet Ginger Ale from the fridge. Open the back door and usher both dogs back in. I fall back into bed.
4:50 a.m. – I roll over to check the time on my phone. The light spurs another round of tail whacking. I fling the covers off of myself and proceed to the kitchen. Turn the Keurig on so that I don’t have to do it later. Let dogs out. They don’t want to go out. They want to turn around on the porch and come back in. I fall back into bed.
6:30 a.m. – Steven’s alarm goes off. He sits up. Absolute mayhem. Both dogs jump onto my side of the bed, effectively crushing me under their collective 160 lbs. of stink. Steven says “Get Mommy.” “They’ve been getting me since 3 a.m.” “Well, that’s when you usually wake up!” My face is drenched in slobber. Steven walks to the bathroom. Dogs follow. I bury my head under a pillow.
6:38 a.m. – I am starving. Too hungry to fall back to sleep. I silently pray that the Keurig has not shut itself off yet.
6:41 a.m. – I walk out to the kitchen. Kitty-baby comes flying out of nowhere and digs its claws into my ankle.
6:43 a.m. – Keurig has not shut itself out. Chocolate Glazed Donut coffee #forthewin. A small victory for the morning.
6:45 a.m. – I attempt to slice a peach. Pieces of it go flying all over the floor. Steven walks into the kitchen. “You’ve got some crazy hair going on…” I grunt.
6:53 a.m. – I maneuver to the couch with my coffee and peach/berry/spinach/almond milk/pb2 smoothie. The smoothie is 75% gone by the time I sit down. Layla promptly climbs into my lap as I attempt to do a Facebook/email/Bloglovin’ check.
7:08 a.m. – Phish goes flying towards the storm door, barking ferociously. Cardiac arrest jilts me out of my social media daze. I suspect a stray cat wandered into his line of sight. I get up to shower, contemplating whether or not a 28-minute nap during lunch will help me run faster on Saturday. I suspect not, and promise myself that I will crawl into bed at my earliest convenience tonight.