Breakfast in Bed


Sleep is a foreign concept to us these days.  Bedtime is between 8:30 PM and 9:30 PM most nights after the little one takes her slumber.  But I’d refer to what were doing more as “maintenance napping”.  You see, apparently when you have a child and when you have a night owl in the form of a cat, you don’t actually sleep long enough to call it that.

I long for the days of waking up in a cold hotel room, covered head to toe in comforters made from geese and heaven, submersed in pitch black nothingness, hearing only the hum of the A/C.  The slow-wake after dozing away dreaming of wondrous ideas swirling in my subconsciousness, wondering what time it is.  Stretching my muscles across the bed, groaning in that satisfying way only a good stretch can give you.  Getting ready for that first sip of hotel coffee; you know, the one you can’t duplicate at home no matter how many fancy blends you buy at Whole Foods.

I’m realizing as I type this that my daughter must wake up like that.  Stretching and groaning, excited to see us bring her that first taste of breakfast milk.  And now I’m just angry.

We want this back.  We want our nighttime again.  Not just maintenance naps but real, honest-to-goodness sleep.

Our little Millie tried to give us a taste of that which we miss so much the other night.  “How?” you might wonder.  Well our darling cat brought us breakfast in bed.  She woke us from our restful silence with a scurrying of her claws gripping our comforter as she dashed from body to body.  Her intentions were good.  Breakfast in bed for her humans.  The menu?  Frog legs.  Live frog legs.  Of which I’m still not entirely sure she was even planning on sharing.

Yes, this life is ours to own.  A very happy baby who needs a sleeping position adjustment or two during the night.  A very frisky night cat who loves us enough to bring us treats in the wee hours of the AM.  And two very tired parents just trying to make some damn hotel coffee.

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