They were good times, those times. Those times when I’d go out after work on a Friday, stumble home with a kebab, bag of chips and a little pot of hummus to dip them in and then sleep until well after noon. In fact, I think only with the exception of actually having to get out of bed early for a reason, I probably slept until after midday on every weekend through my twenties.
I was a night owl, you see. That’s what we call ourselves – those of us who retch at the idea of being awake too early in the morning. I actually did do that a couple of times when I had a part time job in college where sometimes I’d need to be up and about at 6am. The sheer effort of being vertical and dressed would see me having a little heave if I over-exerted myself.
Even when I was pregnant, my body clock maintained its late schedule. I remember being disgusted to discover that prenatal exercise classes were happening as early as 9:30am on Saturday mornings. Who the fuck is up at that time, I wondered?
These days, with over eighteen months served as a mama to a very busy little man, a 9:30am class seems positively late or maybe just about the right time, considering that breakfast is done and dusted, the washing machine is on, the dishwasher is filled and the few bits from the tumble dryer are folded and tidied away. I’ll even get a cup of coffee finished.
I find it fascinating that the complete disruption of sleeping patterns caused by the arrival of a new baby has actually had the power to essentially reset my body clock. I’m impressed in fact because it was probably no harm. I must admit, it has taken some time with significant resistence from me at the start but finally, being up and active at 7am no longer seems like the horror it once was. Although I am thankful it’s not 6. Or 5.
It’s made easier of course by having toddler who loves to run around the house and play with his toys while I can busy myself with chores and play with him at the same time. There was many the long, long month where I was just up with a tiny little thing who I couldn’t put down and could do nothing but wait for time to pass. That made for some very long early mornings indeed. But now, it’s kind of refreshing to have a whole day laid out in front of me.
My bug bear these days – and there’s not many people who’ll agree with me on this one I’d say – is that radio doesn’t really get going until 8am on a Saturday with Countrywide on RTE1, followed by Playback, The Business, Saturday Marian and just in the last few months, Claire Byrne. Lovely. Then on a Sunday, things don’t kick off until 9am where my listening schedule is forced into Newstalk from 9am followed by TodayFM from 10am because Marian doesn’t start on Radio 1 until 11am. I do love my radio current affairs at the weekends. I can’t stand listening to music in the mornings. It makes me sad and uneasy. I think it might be that I can’t put a time and place on it. When I have the cacophony of voices debating the issues of the day around the kitchen, I feel connected with the world and it’s reassuring that life is going on outside my front door. Early weekend mornings without my talk radio would be very trying indeed.
I think I might just have written a post about the positive side of long term sleep deprivation. Thank God I’m not fighting it any more because I think I’m in it for the long haul now…