That's how many mornings a week I drag my pregnant, fatigued ass out of bed to deal with the child so that my husband can sleep in a little. Some weekdays he gets 15 extra minutes, others he gets an hour before he has to get up for work. On Saturdays, he gets to sleep as long as he likes. Sunday is my day, when I, in theory, get to do the same.
The only problem is that the Boy absolutely fails to grasp one key point about me -- despite the fact that I remind him on at least a monthly basis. Once I'm awake, that's it. Sleep is over for me, no matter how hard I try to get some extra zs.
So this morning, the Cheeto wakes up at 6:00, as has become her wont. As usual, the Boy brings her to me to nurse and wonder of wonders, she falls back asleep for almost an hour (this is a rare and joyous thing). But by 7:20, she's awake and restless. She starts chatting and rolling around and reaching for her daddy. The Boy doesn't respond at all; he just seems to burrow more deeply into sleep.
After about 5 minutes of this, I'm thoroughly awake, and I know damn well that the Boy is, too, but he's still playing dead. So finally I can't stand it anymore. I say, "come on babe, let's go," and I haul her out of bed. At which point the Boy rolls over and says "oh, didn't you want to sleep in?
I tell you, no court in the world would convict me.
This all bugs the hell out of me, because I have told the Boy a million times that once the baby is in our bed, I'm done sleeping. He may be able to turn his back to her and ignore her wriggling, noisy presence, but I cannot. And I have asked him at least once a month for the past year to please, please, please just take the kid and deal with her on the one damn morning a week that I actually get a break from the Cheeto, instead of dumping her in bed to chew on my breasts while he gets an extra hour of sleep. You'd think, after all this time, he'd remember. But apparently, his extra sleep is more important than mine.
In fact, all of the Boy's time is more important than mine -- it is the one issue that continues to mar our otherwise extremely happy marriage. Since the day we met, he could always be counted on to make sure we had time to do what he wanted to do, but if there's something he isn't really into, all of a sudden, w're too busy. This tendency reached almost comical proportions when I was in law school. There was a carnival that came to town every year right around the time of my spring finals. The Boy was famous for asking me to do things with him -- help him move, grocery shop, hang out, whatever -- all weekend, but when I said I wanted to go to the carnival it was "oh, but you need to study. Maybe next year."
It's a trait that I have always at least tolerated in the Boy, but now that there are kids involved, I'm at my breaking point. I have either got to find a better way to deal my frustration, or convince the Boy to think of the whole family, not just of himself, when he's planning out his time.
Why do I think I'm going to be the one adjusting, yet again?