make mommy go… something…something.
Otter has started to get up at 6 a.m.
I abhor six a.m.
Six a.m. is the time I have to get up for court, it was the time I had to get up to work my crappy entry level job an hour’s drive away, it was the time I had to get to get to my insane morning torts class.
Six a.m. is an insufferable time to start my daily routine, it is an abberant time, a warped time of the morning, in between dark and light. A time out of time.
Especially when he really gets up about 5 a.m., but nurses with me in a quasi-doze for an hour before I finally resign myself to my fate and haul my enervated carcass out of bed.
“Come on Otter… go back to bed.”
“Ma ma mamamamamamamamamama ma… Da da dadadadada… Ma Da MamaDa”
Smack, punch, kick.
Foot in the face.
“Oh all right, I’ll get up.”
I detest everyone and everything at that time of the day, the cat snuggled next to me is stifling, my husband’s blissful snoring is irksome, the baby’s determination is maddening, the stairs are too long, the floor is too hard, the couch is intolerable.
The first glimpse of the sun is met with the sentiment “Curse you life giving star!”
Then the coffee beans get ground…
and the first wafts of the delectable brew permeate the fog around my consciousness.
With the first sip, the cranky lines around my eyes fade.
With the second sip, I feel as though I might let people live.
With the third, I am human again.
I thank the java gods for their bounty. It appears to be the key to my parenting skills.