Tuesday, October 4, 2011
(Read about it here, here, or here...)
The sound of an alarm clock literally stresses me out. Even when I hear it on TV or the radio, my body has a physical, clenchy reaction. I HATE it.
Luckily I married J, who IS a morning person, and who will wake up before 7am each and every day, without the help of an alarm clock.
Pre-baby, he would bring me a cup of coffee and gently rub my back to awaken me. This was MUCH nicer than an alarm clock. If it weren't for its clock function, I would have thrown that bitch right out the window, as the alarm was no longer necessary.
Lately, however, I have almost wished for the alarm back.
This morning, I was awakened by a veritable symphony of sounds.
My first awakening was by the nugget. He woke up at 5am, cried for about a tenth of a second, then was still again. I went back to sleep.
Then at 6am, I heard the neighbor. The crazy neighbor. (To specify, crazy neighbor to the left. I also have a crazy neighbor to the right.) I LOVE sleeping with the windows open. I love the crisp fall air. I do NOT love hearing crazy neighbor calling for his cat, over and over again, every 15 minutes, all morning long. "SAMANTHA! SAMANTHA! SAMANTHA!" Every once in a while he'll switch it up. "SAMANTHA! SAMMY! SAMANTHA! SAMMY!" Who names their cat Samantha, anyway?
The next sound I heard was the nugget, again. We are fortunate that he wakes up happy, and does not immediately cry to be removed from his crib. I think he rather likes a little bit of crib playtime before greeting the day. He recently figured out how to put his own pacifier back into his mouth. So we now have several of them in his crib, so should he wake up at night trying to find one, they will always be close at hand, and we will not have to get up. The downside to this is that his new favorite crib game is picking up one (or several) pacifiers and banging them against the slats of the crib. BANG! BANG! BANG!
Next, Delilah, who sleeps in our room, gets restless. She hears the activity from the neighbor and the baby and knows that it must be time to get up. So she stands up and shake, shake, shakes her head. Flapping ears and jangling collar. Again and again.
Then Daphne, who sleeps downstairs in her crate (not because I'm mean, but because she prefers it), hears the upstairs commotion and whines to be released.
The window is still open. Crows are crowing (seriously, a lot of crows, doing a lot of crowing), the nearby train whistles on its way past, the crazy neighbor is still calling for his stupid cat. The banging in the nursery continues. The dogs are both as restless as can be.
My first words this particular morning?
"I hate everything."
Like I said, I'm not a morning person.