Tag Archives: mothers need sleep

Na Na Mornings

The sea breezes are exquisite. The biking, tremendous. The little farmhouse, with its scuffed wood floors, narrow staircase, wee rooms, clawfoot tub, and view of the bay: delightful. The air, the sun, the late, light, evenings with their gold-soaked clouds? Breathtaking. And the beaches are a brilliantly-kept secret.

But possibly the greatest part of vacation in Nova Scotia? The extra sleep.

It goes like this: MJ wakes up at her usual absurdly early hour. I take her downstairs, stumbling with fatigue. There I find Mom waiting expectantly. She gives MJ a greeting that can only be described as royal. MJ reciprocates. Hugs, gentle tones, singsong responses. “Are you hungry? “Yes, I am!” When the lovefest has run its first, ebullient course, Mom remembers me. I am bleary and agape, leaning in the doorway. “Morning,” I mumble hoarsely. Singsong is beyond me. Mom, all sympathy, says “do you want to go back to sleep?” I make a show of waving her off: “no, no, I couldn’t,” but, when she insists, I do go, and gratefully.

The feeling I experience when crawling back into bed is magnificent. It is akin to the joy I felt as a child when we had a snow day at school. Total and complete, unexpected reprieve. Thank you, providence!! Or, in this case, thank you Nana Bonnie. Then I sleep fast, hard, and only a little guiltily. When I awake, no one has missed me. And I don’t mind it one bit. The rest of the day feels like a holiday. And this repeats, pretty much every day we are here.

Fancy is nice. But these gifts of morning hours are, to me, the greatest luxury in the world.