Old Fart

When I was young, my parents had a rule. No phone calls after 9:00pm. Mom and dad usually went to bed at 9 and they didn’t want my friends calling and waking them up. I think I probably had to go to bed when they did, or at least go to my room. And I remember thinking, “Ug, gosh!! It’s only 9:00!” And then I’d curse them.

Mom and dad, I’m sorry I cursed you. I totally get it now.

Todd starts the bedtime process around 9:30pm. It takes a half an hour to get jammies on, teeth brushed, guinea pig fed, hugs and kisses, etc etc. Once the kids are tucked in at 10:00, then Todd and I bed down. And then we end up talking until 11:00 and then 6:00am comes and I’m cranky. And every morning I say I have to get to sleep by 10:30 at the very latest. The VERY latest.

Because I just absolutely hate getting out of bed. Once the alarm goes off (and I’ve made the decision that I cannot hit snooze anymore because I’ve already shorted the morning process by not washing my hair, just wearing jeans, not having coffee and eating breakfast at work), my 15 minute process starts with cuddling, then I moved away from the cuddling, then I kick one leg out from the blanket, then that leg hangs over the edge of the bed, then I sit up (eyes still closed), then finally I stumble (eyes still closed) to the bathroom.

And I’m grumbling the whole time.

Once I’m in the shower, I’m all good. I laugh at Marty and Jody on the radio. I sing along to the songs. By the time I’m saying goodbye and hugging the kids, I’m damn near perky.

And this morning was no different. I hit snooze until 6:35 and whined and moaned that maybe I should just work 9:00am to 5:30pm. That’s when Todd said we need to have the kids in their rooms, settling down by 9:00, so we still get our talking/cuddling time and I can be asleep by 10:00.

In bed by 9:00. I get home at 4:30pm. That’s four and a half hours of “life” after work and that’s just sad. Makes me feel old.

On a side note, the mega millions is up to 170 million. I think we have tickets.