Thursday 3:55 am
The children have slept like rocks this vacation, each in a bottom bunk of the two bunk beds. Across their window I strung up an extra twin comforter, hung on the broken cord from a boogie board found outside on the pool sidewalk. I tied slip knots in either end. To the top frame of the venetian blinds I tenuously attached our other beach towel using elastic hair bands to give it just enough friction and grip around the blind’s edges. It’s not pretty but along with our white noise machine and a preponderance of AC, their room has been a dark, cool cave. Also they are exhausted.
It turns out that when their parents are well rested and unable to bury their heads in hours of nightly computer work, we too sleep long and hard, which has helped us be a united front, organized in our approach to structuring the day.
We wake and eat breakfast. We go to the beach and come back for Jr Jr’s nap. There is lunch, playtime, sometimes the pool. When nap is over, we pile in the car with bikes and head to some quiet nature spot where The Hubs and I will erratically power walk to keep up with the boys as they ride in circles. “Ride chopper, ride chopper!” has been the demand of the trip, seconded by “eye keem cone!!” Picnic dinner, more biking, then snack, bath, bed.
The routine has been great for me when the timing works but today I began my stealthy preparations for a beach sunrise writing session only to discover, fully dressed, that it wasn’t quite a quarter to four. I have been trying valiantly to be a 5 am riser for my sanity and that of my family’s but getting up before four seems to be an easy way to lose a lot of sleep. So I will write and then crawl back into bed but it will set the whole day awry to be caught in bed by the first waking child. Somehow a previously vertical grown-up sets the tone for the day. A non-sleeping parent’s presence in the kitchen says “I have something in my control” even if that thing is never more than breakfast.
The waves of drowsiness are hitting hard. The tidal pull of more sleep is drawing me in, in. There won’t be light at the beach for another two hours. I can feel my body moving toward sleep. It’s time to surrender. Yes, going back to bed. Sorry routine, still at the mercy of a toddler’s needs.
