Ordinarily, I might be upset to find my son out on the patio covered in veggie puffs. Summer changes everything.
We are on summer hours around here. I never was a night person. Then i had a baby and being awake at 2 am became normal .
Adam is in bed by 7 and then I have the entire evening to do whatever I want, which typically involves a quick housecleaning, bad television, Facebook, a little Twitter where I Tweet away into the oblivion and block “Twits” who try to sell me plastic surgery, and oh yes, Facebook. I can waste more time there than should be allowed by law.
Now that I’m out of school for the summer, my bedtime has gradually crept back to 1 AM most nights.
Adam didn’t get the summer hours memo. I mean, I told him, but he obviously didn’t understand it. He still thinks breakfast is at 6 am.
It’s no wonder I nearly wept with relief when I came home from lunch and found Ismael eating leftovers and watching the Sotomayor hearings. For one, I didn’t have to eat leftovers and two, I crawled into bed for two hours of glorious sleep. Father and son need quality time together too, right?
You know the kind of sleep where you crawl into bed and every cell of your organism rejoices at once to be in a horizontal position? Yeah, it was that good.
And when I finally slid out of bed and found my family outside on the patio, I wasn’t irritated even though Adam appeared sticky, slobbery, and had a sweet potato veggie puff stuck to his cheek.
He was happy to be outside with daddy.
Daddy was happy to be watching the confirmation hearings in peace.
I was happy, it turns out, about a lot of things.
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