Last week I was busily washing dishes in my dreams. Pile and piles of plates, dirty glasses and crusty pans were lined up awaiting a washing. Suddenly the light came on and I was abruptly awakened to my husband telling me about the Winter Olympics and a car accident in southern Utah.
Mind you, the dream about washing dishes was not the most interesting dream I have ever had; it’s not even in the top ten. But while DH was talking I was still trying to come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t going to get my dream kitchen clean.
I said, as he talked about downhill bobsled and a woman pregnant with twins.
It was a classic moment of two different species trying to communicate with each other.
Species #1 night owl, that would be me, is completely unable to focus until at least 8 a.m.
Species #2 morning lark, as exhibited in DH, is unable to function after 8 p.m.
I usually feel chatty at about 11 p.m. This is not popular with my husband, as he is usually snoring by the time I climb in bed and start telling him about tomorrow’s weather report.
Since DH goes at 7:30 a.m. and returns at 5 p.m. that leaves a window three hours when we can actually talk to each other with both sides comprehending the conversation.
We have two children; the oldest is an owl, the youngest a lark.
After fighting the oldest every step of the way to go to bed every evening, the youngest was a refreshing change of pace. He quite cheerfully tucks himself in bed at or before bedtime, only requesting that one of his parents “check on me” before drifting off peacefully.
Alas, he’s right there with daddy at 6 a.m. ready to start the day. Meanwhile the oldest child and I are burrowing under the blankets, hoping if we ignore the day it will go away and let us sleep.
I suppose morning larks and night owls can peacefully co-exist. But it does take a lot of tolerance on both sides. I’ll never truly understand why DH and youngest son think getting up with the sun is preferable to staying all cozy in bed drifting along with your dreams.
But they will never understand the frustration of laying in bed in the dark, wide awake and restless, willing sleep to come.