Oh, how I miss my mornings before children, when a lie-in could mean a proper lie-in, until midday, with tea or coffee cups grudgingly fetched from the kitchen, and curtains flapped softly in the summer breeze.
I don’t think I’ve had a proper lie in since 1998, when I was free to stay in bed for as long as I wanted in those last precious weeks of freedom before Baby came along. After children, of course, lie ins are a mythical state never to be achieved except by intense negotiation between Husband and Self about who got up last week and why either one deserves the break most.
The negotiations never happened the night before, of course, always the morning and I am never able to fully drowse once I’ve been called selfish and mean, so even if it were my turn the lie in was missing the vital elements of freedom and peace.
And by the time I’d had three children and gone through 15 years of early rising, I’d lost the ability and woke, at 6pm precisely every day. I still do.
I’m glad to say that I’m working on my drowsiness as we speak. Saturday morning lie ins are off the calendar for a few months as we test out Saturday Morning work. It’s terribly productive so far, since nobody has called in and we can get a load of work done, but it does make me look out at the weekend traffic and wonder when my next proper, free, long, no pressure lie in will be. I find myself dreaming of a night alone in a hotel, with no TV quiz early the next morning, and the freedom to stretch out, relax and enjoy. I think the closest I’ll get this year is a glorious November morning when we’re in London for Peter’s Notary Public training. He has to go for a 9.30 start…. but I have nothing to do this year. I am planning a very slow wake up, with a stroll around London to follow. Bliss.
Until then, I am missing out on the creative, restorative and social benefits of a good lie in.
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