The Awakening

Many mothers experience the sudden, early morning awakening, knowing, just knowing, before an eye is ever opened, that a child is standing next to the bed, peering into the face of a sleeping parent.

My friend Elaine, squinted into the dawn, then slammed her eyelids shut, nudged her snoring spouse and said, "Please don't tell me that's Peter standing here, and he figured out how to get out of his crib before his first birthday."

Yep, he did, all by himself. And it doesn't stop at motherhood.

We had grandchildren for a Friday overnight without parents, and being a seasoned parent, I knew that when I put the two boys, two and four years-old, to bed at night, they would sleep until eight in the morning.

I was wrong.

At precisely 5:47 a.m., before the birds began to chirp, I felt the presence of a child at my bedside. I slowly opened an eye into a slit, enough to see a smiling four year-old staring into my face. I hoped he didn't recognize me without make-up, but he did, and said, "I'm awake, as though I wouldn't notice.

He was immediately joined by a not-so-happy little brother dragging his blankie behind him. "The coo-coo clock woke me up," he grumped, "and I'm hungry."

I squeezed both eyes shut and pretended they weren't there. It didn't work. They went to the other side of the bed and stared into grandpa's face who gave a roaring snore and scared them back to my side of the bed. They kept a vigil while talking about pancakes and sausage, and I knew I was whipped.

As I've often said, grandmotherhood is not for faint-hearted old ladies, wimps, or women who like to sleep-in on Saturday mornings.