short nights

The nights feel short. Not usually as short as last night, however. I'm down to a precision-timed morning routine now, which for me means that by doing most everything that I can the night before, I can get out of the house in 45 minutes. (Yah. I move slow.) Anyway, somehow last night I managed to decide, while asleep, that in order to wash my hair this morning I would need to get up five minutes before my alarm went off at 5:55am. I therefore dutifully woke up at the apparently appointed time. As usual, I leaned over to kiss Bronwyn goodbye, as she prefers not to be woken again when I'm actually leaving. She jumped, audibly. Then I moved to get up. But paused. Hmm... this really doesn't feel like I've had a reasonable night's sleep.

We've still not found my clock radio. We're pretty sure it was in storage for the last couple of years we were overseas. We believe it is somewhere in one of the still-packed boxes in our study, waiting till our final home before being unpacked. With the light on my watch now toasted, the only way I can tell the time in the night is to turn on my mobile. Which I did. Complete with requisite Bronwyn's-sleep-disturbing beeping. Hmm.

2:46am.

Perhaps a little early?

I explain to Bronwyn why I'm not getting up, knowing that if I don't she will lie awake, worried I'm now missing my bus. She's too out of it to take it in, and lies awake anyway, a bit confused. Sleep glorious sleep.

And all of this, without the baby here to command attention. But at least we're easing into the disturbed nights.