Awakenings.

The mornings are chilly in January. The kids sleep all cocooned in their comforters oblivious of the noises emanating from the kitchen. They can sleep through anything. I wake up at the slightest noise so I marvel at their ability to sleep in bliss. My husband can also sleep through anything, including, or so I am told, earthquakes. So I am the guardian in the night , the one who sleeps with one ear open and who once awake, finds a return to slumber as elusive as stardust.

The hardest part of the morning is to wake the little one up. She sleeps in an awkward pose with her long legs tangled up in the quilt and her head almost on her brother’s shoulder while her toes are at the diagonally opposite end leaving him with just a narrow strip of bed to lie on. He lies on his tummy breathing loudly like his dad. They both have the softest faces while at rest.

She is easy to rouse while he resists with all his might. But its harder for me to wake her up because she still looks like a baby and she never complains about the hour but instead responds instantly in a daze stumbling about blind till the foot of the staircase. Appu is a lazy creature. He gets angry when woken up unless we are travelling in which case he won’t sleep at night and is up before everyone else , wild with excitement and bubbling with enthusiasm which is not entirely welcome at four in the morning!

Mahi’s face is always tiny when sleeping – her eyelids appear bowed under the weight of dreams. She is a quiet sleeper way unlike her waking self. Appu is just the opposite – noisier when asleep than awake and so lost in deep sleep that waking him is a laborious and painful effort. He does not tell me of his dreams. He doesn’t appreciate being woken up however gently and I find it easier just to be brusque and get it over with. No fun starting the day that way but every mother’s morning is so crazy that she must draw the line somewhere.

I don’t even like waking my husband who if left to himself would probably sleep way past eight in the morning. I let everyone sleep in on the weekends when I am up early and out walking. Weekend mornings are gentle unwindings – unhurried starts to days that don’t have the rigours of fixed schedules. Mornings where I can smile indulgently when the kids wake on their own accord way after their usual time. Mornings when I can take an hour to browse through the papers with music of my choice playing in the background. Mornings when I actually take the time appreciate the beauty of everything around me.

The harshness of weekday mornings when I am in a state and trying to do too many things at the same time grates on me and everyone else in the family as well. I am always yelling at the children to hurry. Sometimes it worries me that their start to the day is not one designed to ensure that the rest of their day is enjoyable. No wonder the children do not like to wake up to another morning of rushing to meet the day instead of being gently led into it. This new year at least I have made a start in that direction in the hopes that easier mornings lead to happier days ...