I hate Sunday nights. Almost as much as I despise Monday mornings.
Why, you ask? Because on Sunday nights, I am an insomniac. Any other night of the week, I'm out the second my head hits the pillow. On Sundays, I stare at the ceiling, annoyed that Mr. Sandman has skipped over my house. Well, over ME anyway. Lately, I just end up staying up until I feel tired. Might as well eliminate some of that frustration, and continue to knit in the living room, watching some crappy movie and waiting for sleepy eyes. Last night it was midnight (midnight!!) when I finally got sleepy. That's a rough start to Monday.
However, I do know of someone pokier than me on Monday mornings. It's my eldest son. That just proves that this aversion to Mondays thing is hereditary. I usually have to rouse Will on Monday mornings, and today was no exception. Today he tells me he's going to get up so that he can nap on the couch. He alternates that request with begging to go back to the beach like yesterday. "Sounds like somebody's got a case of the Mondays."*
We make it through breakfast and he begrudgingly comes with me to brush his teeth. I peek in on his baby brother on the way: Sean's on his belly, peeking out of the crib. He beams when he sees me, my little Ray of Sunshine! Clearly he does not get that from me, Mrs. "I Need More Coffee." I hope he's able to hold onto that as he gets older, though I doubt it.
Remember the sleep you got as a child?? You would wake up well-rested in the morning, looking forward to another exciting day. God, I miss that!
*Office Space, one of my top ten Favorites. Rent it if you haven't seen it! Oh, and can you tell I've been reading Jen Lancaster novels by my footnotes??