Ever since I can remember, my New Year’s resolution was to stop pressing the snooze button. And not just every January- every September too, because I celebrate the jewish new year in addition to the regular new year. Every year for the last 20 or so years, I’ve had not one but two opportunities each year to change my wicked ways. Every time- that’s 40 times- I have failed. If you’ve read my blog before you’re like, “no doy” because you know the snooze button is my mortal enemy.
But love conquers all, right? Throughout most of my 20’s, I was on a mission to find my perfect mate. I saw many benefits to being in a committed partnership with someone with whom I could share mutual love and respect, including the end of horrible blind dates, no more heart wrenching break-ups, not having to go to weddings without a plus one and up the only person under 50 at your table, and one benefit most people probably overlook- I would finally give up the snooze button once I found that special someone.
Because if you really love and care about someone, how could inflict your snooze button habit on them? I felt that subjecting another to one’s own snooze problem bordered on torture. At the very least, it was rude.
They say you learn a lot about yourself in relationships. I learned that I am capable of torture. Because nary a day has passed since Dan and I began our courtship over five years ago that I haven’t pressed the snooze button. Worse yet, I’ve never even felt bad about it. All I’ve ever felt was tired.
Apparently Dan was tired too, but tired of the situation tired, not fatigued tired. So things have changed in our house. Now the alarm clock lives on his side of the bed. I feel like I am in a hotel every night (a crappy hotel with absentee maids) because I tell him what time I would like a wake up call in the morning. He sets the alarm to the desired time to the undesirable beeping noise. When it goes off before dawn, I bolt upright to show him I’m awake because he won’t shut it off until I’ve proven I’m awake. I’ve tried casually draping myself over his body to press the snooze button myself, but he’s more alert than I am at that hour, and he has stronger, longer arms any minute of the day, so that doesn’t work.
There is only one thing I hate more than waking up early, and that is Sweet Pea waking up early. So every morning, I hear the beeping alarm, and I get a burst of adrenaline as my body goes into fight or flight mode. As much as humankind may have adapted over time, I am still wired like the cave women who came before me, with a biological urge to get up before my toddler.
It’s not pretty, but our new system works. For the third time this week, I have risen at a ridiculous hour to get to the gym, work out over an episode of “Orange is the New Black”, soak the hot tub, shower, and return home before Dan has to leave for work. Tough love doesn’t feel so tough when you’re relaxing after a workout in the hot tub at 7am. Maybe love does conquer all.
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| Sunrise in Boulder, CO image credit Stuart O’Steen of 5280 Lens Mafia |
Please visit the FTSF (Finish the Sentence Friday) blog hop hosts, Stephanie at Mommy For Real, Janine at Janine’s Confessions of Mommyholic, Kate at Can I Get Another Bottle of Whine, and Dawn at Dawn’s Disaster.
I think I missed out on that evolutionary gene that some well-rested cave anestor forgot to pass on to me. I have NEVER risen before my children until this past summer. It started very intentionally to try to improve my sleep hygiene (long story) and the first day I tried it, I felt like a queen! Waking up BEFORE my children is a new luxury that I have just discovered! And, yes, the snooze button gets involved sometimes:(.