Saturday Mornings

Why was I blessed with children that are social misfits? Don't normal people know that when someone is laying down on the bed, eyes closed, not responding to sound, that they should be left alone? When it is early Saturday morning and barely light, my kids actually know to go play somewhere else if they wake up. But as soon as their little brains think of something funny or interesting, they MUST share it with me, regardless of my state of mind (usually comatose). They can't simply wait until I wake up, or tell each other instead of me. No, they must awaken the sleeping beast, at their own risk, so they can feel the joy of telling me what is on their mind at 6am.


My kids must also be very slow learners, because this experience cannot possibly be very joyful for very long. Once the sleeping beast awakens to hear some trivial bit of information, usually at GREAT LENGTH
(Mom wouldn't it be funny if we went on a trip to South America and saw all the dinosaurs living there and one of them flew up to the sky and fire came out of his mouth and all the clouds melted and the butterflies turned into raindrops so that the plants could drink water?) my maternal instincts momentarily shut down and something deep inside me says DESTROY THE GREMLIN THAT HAS RUINED MY SLUMBER, and honestly, I don't think I can be held responsible for what happens when I am not entirely in control of my senses.

You would think they would learn someday, but so far, no dice. There simply must be something evolutionarily backward about this.

It isn't much better when my autistic stepdaughter, who has problems keeping her clothes on ("they're itchy," she says) - but who is really getting to that age where she needs to keep her clothes on - decides early Saturday morning NOT to wake me up, instead opting to go naked trampoline jumping and peanut-butter eating (yes, try that one!) in our back yard. Thank god it was the much less-visible BACK yard. I kid you not, this is no exaggeration. I hate to think what the neighbors may be thinking: Wow, our very own version of The Man Show - Girls on Trampolines! (God Forbid!)

So it looks like I simply can't win. Saturday mornings, those blissful, quiet, cartoon-filled hours I remember from my childhood, are now tortuous, bleary-eyed, monster-filled (choose your monster) chase-fest. It almost makes me long for an empty nest.