Sweet Dreams Are Made of These

Ah, and I thought I had it all figured out. Until that is, a precocious little 2 1/2 year old girl decided she was going to wake up with me every day and insist on staying up to eat, play and come to yoga with me.

Which would be grand of course, from her perspective. I totally get why she wants in on the 5 AM action. Time with her mama, all by herself? Wherein her mama can play with her to her heart’s content, un-interrupted by her brother? Non-stop snacking (on marshmallows and oranges and chocolate milk no less, nothing more, nothing less) and perhaps some drumming and dance party action too…

Making Abby’s ultimate dream-world come true is what I’ve been faced with on day 1 and day 2 of my attempts to join the 5 AM Club, (no joiners, no quitters. I know that doesn’t make any sense. It’s not supposed to).

The crux of the problem lies in the close proximity to which her sweet, chubby little body inevitably finds itself curled up next to mine sometime in the middle of the night, every night. Which, truth be told, I have a love/hate relationship with. Little toddler cuddles are pretty much the sweetest, most delicious thing in the world. Ever.

She doesn’t kick (much), so the sleeping is fairly restful with her in our bed, so I haven’t made a point of fully waking up when she crawls into bed with us to put her back into her own bed. Mainly because, HA! As IF it would be that easy. Oh no, the whole wide world would hear tell of this injustice straight from her mouth to first the ears of her sleeping brother with whom she shares a room and then to her daddy (who usually sleeps through the her climbing into our bed), justly waking up everyone in the house-hold.

So up until this point, I’ve steered clear that middle-of-the-night raucous and have chosen sleepy cuddles with my baby (still, always), girl. Wyndham did the same thing until he got way too rowdy with his limbs and we steered the clumsy, toe-stubbing, ear-shattering, heart tugging-course course of getting him back to his own bed and staying there, when he was around 3.

It looks like Abby’s time has come for much of the same if I want a hope in hell of making the 5 AM Club a reality. My reality, that is, not hers. As much as I love my girl, the whole point of this exercise was (in part), to exercise. To ‘indulge’ in some self-care because at this point in my parenting stint, there’s just not much time for it the rest of the day.

Besides, a 5 AM wake-up is just too early for her. The shininess of it starts to wear off around 7 AM and I have a serious case of Zombie Toddler on my hands who will indeed make every attempt at eating my brain. Just in time for when everything is in high-gear for getting ready for school and daycare. Perrrrfect. 

So Friday saw me (eventually), hitting the mat and missing the trail and today saw me not doing any of those things. Instead I tried to not fight with Abby about getting up at 5 AM to play and realized that tonight, I’m going to have to start the loud, painful process of putting her back into her own bed when she tries to climb into ours, in an attempt avoid her spidey senses from kicking in when I try to creep out of bed in the morning. I suppose I could just leave her, flipping her lid and wanting only me – but I’m choosing to not make everyone take part in my own personal challenge. As much as Trev supports what I’m doing, it’s not really fair that he has to wake up too. Wish me luck, mmk?

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