Pre-kids, Lance and I would sleep in on the weekend. I always got Saturday, and he got Sunday. Because, while we didn't have kids, we still had a dog that really preferred we let her outside to potty in the morning. But on our respective sleep in days, we'd each go until about 9 or 10 and it was so nice.
When Hannah came, our schedules were adjusted. I woke up when she woke up, period. Sometimes I was really lucky and could coax her back to sleep after she'd eaten and we lay in bed snuggling while Lance got dressed and ready for work. A little piece of me would feel bad, but then I would remember how early I was up feeding her and I'd doze right back off again. As she got old enough, we trained her on the whole Saturday/Sunday ritual. She came downstairs with Daddy on Saturdays so mommy could sleep. Then on Sundays, she came downstairs with Mommy so Daddy could sleep.
Now we've got baby Eliza and she is not respectful of the previously established weekend routine. She is like clockwork; she wakes up about 6am, realizes she is hungry and starts cooing until I come rescue her from her crib. These last few mornings I've brought her back to our bed to eat so I can snuggle back under the covers and keep warm. Lance is one of the heaviest sleepers I know, so this doesn't bother him in the least. Sometimes he'll ask us to keep it down, but mostly he is completely unaware there is even a baby in the bed.
Soon enough, Eliza will be old enough to train. And I know that once she is, we'll get back on our weekend routines. But I also know, I'll be sad that she grew up so fast and is no longer this little snuggly baby who needs me first thing in the morning. So, for now, I'm awake at the crack of dawn and am okay with it, because it's for a good cause.
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