The longest day

I woke up this morning, as I often do, to the sounds of one of my little ones awake, ready to start the day, and in need of liberation from his crib.  Dan usually gets up with the boys in the morning, but he was groggy to the point of complete incomprehensibility, so I went for it.  The sun was up, and I was ready to start my day — but why, oh why, was I so tired?  Well, partly, because it was quarter of five in the morning.  Quarter ’til five, and daylight.  Crazy.

Benjamin was awake, but it didn’t take much to convince him to go back to sleep (it was, after all, two hours before he usually gets up, as well).  I had a tough time getting back to sleep, though, and before I knew it, it was quarter of seven (that’s more like it) and time to actually start the day.

Other than being hot and exhausted, we had a good day, and celebrated by inaugurating our new inflatable “paddling pool” for our terrace.  (I know that’ll come in handy tomorrow when it’s supposed to be above 90 here — and that’s the temperature down on the street, not in our relatively closed up attic apartment.)

It is summer now.  Although I understand why this is the first day of summer, from an astronomical perspective, it never ceases to astound me that the longest day of the year should come so early in what we experience as summer.  July and August still stretch stickily out ahead of us, but the days begin to shorten now.  It will begin to be easier to sleep a little later in the morning, and to get the kids in bed at a reasonable hour in the evening (it’s after 10:00 here and not yet quite dark).

I know I’ll regret these words in November and January, but right now, I’m looking forward to just a little less daylight tomorrow.  Sleep is lovely and precious.

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