Sometimes God is hilarious. Here’s how I know…
Last night as I was brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed, I prayed that God would give me the willingness to wake up early and do my yoga video. ‘I’m not going to think yoga is such a great idea at 5:30am,’ I prayed, ‘so I’d appreciate some help getting out of bed.‘
In my mind I imagined my divine-inspired wake-up call as a butterfly gently landing on my nose. Or a feeling of wellness as I happily yawned and stretched myself awake. I imagined hopping out of bed, happy and energized, all because I had asked for help.
Well, here’s what actually happened.
Around 3 am, as she does every night, Pumpkin wandered into our room and climbed into bed between me and B. She’s a cuddler, that one. First she ‘snuggles’ your head by throwing her chubby little arm over it. Then she ‘nuzzles’ your arm by butting her head against it repeatedly. I’m sure in her three-year-old mind this feels like heaven. To me, it feels like getting beat up. At 3am. By a subconsciously pissed off pre-schooler.
Don’t feel too badly for me, though, because my super power is falling back to sleep. This morning it only took me about a nanosecond to go back to deep sleepyhappytime. It seemed I’d only just closed my eyes before I heard the dreaded zen-like ascending tone of my alarm. (Why do I choose such lovely little alarms that deny me the reality of sucktitude that is waking up in the morning? Why not just call it what it is and get an alarm of a drill instructor yelling in my ear?? But I digress.)
As my alarm sang sweetly to me, my thoughts went something like this:
It’s 5:30. Shit that’s early. No way I’m getting up to do yoga. I mean – I’m tiiiiiiiiired. And as I drift back to sleep I think, Hey, listen. I did my part. I prayed to God for help last night. So if I don’t feel like getting out of bed, it’s not my fault.
So I close my eyes and drift back to sleep for a few minutes. And then that stupid zen xylophone again.
It’s 5:47. Where did the last seventeen minutes go? Is this God helping me get out of bed? No. No. I distinctly remember asking to be happy to wake up. And I’m not happy. So…zzzzzzzzz
Again I close my eyes and drift back to sleep. Pumpkin must be dreaming because I sense she’s twitching. She’s moving around in the bed in her pre-wake up dream. She must be dreaming of being a kangaroo because the when her foot connects with my head, it packs the punch of an angry marsupial.
And just like that? I’m awake, I’m happy to be out of bed (away from Kicky McHeadInjury), and I’m on my way downstairs to do yoga. And get some ibuprofen.
Well played, God. Well played.