March 7th, 2010
It is difficult to express in words how utterly fantastic life is when Miss Mouse sleeps in on the weekends. The one thing I dislike about my job is the fact that I get up at 5:00am each morning during the week. I rouse Miss Mouse at about 5:40 and, after five days in a row of this, she often maintains this rhythm into the weekend. Getting up at 5:30 when you have to go to work is bad enough. Getting up at 5:30 on a Saturday is just wrong.
Last weekend, when I was away in Florida, Miss Mouse decided it would be fun to get up at 4:30 on Saturday, just because she loves playing with her dad so very much. Arg.
This weekend, however, she is atoning for that lapse in judgment. Yesterday, she slept until 8. This morning, as I type, it is 8:22 and I’ve heard not a peep.
I almost never get up before my girl and it’s really quite nice. I took the dog out, putzed around the house a bit, visited with my aunt who’s here for the weekend, and made breakfast, which is now baking merrily and smelling yummy.
Of course, at some point, the paranoia sets in. What if she’s accidentally smothered herself with her stuffed bunny? Should I go check on her? It’ll wake her up if I go in. Dither dither. I’m getting better about Letting It Go and not freaking out when she sleeps in. But if she’s not up by 9, I’m going up there!