Like millions of people around the world who are following the Beijing Olympics, I’ve been watching a lot of TV this summer. Parked on my couch watching the events, it’s alternatively a new experience as well as a shot of nostalgia. Here, in 2008, I’m watching the summer games with my own kids. But I can’t help but recall a few decades ago, when I was the kid in the room, watching the events with my own parents, and Jim McKay in place of Bob Costas.
My network’s broadcast schedule means that I’m getting to bed late most nights. At least, late for people who have trains to catch and clocks to punch. Because I work at home, I have a little more slack on this issue, and so, for the past week or two, the Olympics have helped me reconnect with the deliciousness that is sleeping in.
But today was a different story. This morning, I got up at 5 AM. Unlike other people I know, who love to crow about how early they get started in the morning—how splendid the sunrise, how empty the roads are when they go for a jog at dawn—I am not especially happy about it. In fact, I’m not what anyone would call a morning person, and I’ve never quite understood this whole business of the worm giving it up for the early bird.
Who says that rising at daybreak is somehow the hallmark of an honorable, virtuous life? While I’m sure many glorious things happen in the world between daybreak and 9 AM, lots of good stuff happens for me between those hours, too, spending them, as I have been, swaddled in my bed, conjuring adventures in my dreams.
Last night, I drank a tall glass of water before bed. I paid for it this morning when I rose to pee and couldn’t fall back to sleep. I had loads of stuff to take care of today, and those niggling details nagged at me until I sighed, gave in, and un-swaddled. I was barely at my desk when my teenage son stumbled up to my office. It wasn’t yet 6 AM, and looking up to see him standing in the doorway, disheveled and swaying slightly, seemed as jarring as discovering a monkey in a baby carriage. It turns out he couldn’t sleep either, and, like a drowsy but friendly street person, he had wandered in to say hello.
Like me, Evan has a tendency to lie around, writ large as an unperturbed teenager. On a weekend, I might rise by 10 AM. But this summer, he hardly ever sets foot out of bed until the crack of noon. Seeing him there upright, as the sun crept over the horizon behind me, reminded me of a story my friend Scott told me recently about his grandfather.
The old man was a notoriously early riser, lulled to an early sleep, Scott said, by an afternoon spent busily throwing down tall glasses of whiskey. Come daybreak, he would be well-rested and raring to go. And when his grandkids would visit, it would irk him that others didn’t keep the same hours.
He’d rise at 5 AM or so, full of loving gratitude for the day and sipping his coffee in the kitchen while his family slumbered upstairs. But by 6 AM he was banging cabinets and slamming the fridge door. By 7, he was livid. So he took to positioning himself at the bottom of the stairs with a marine horn, fetched from the garage, the kind with a can of compressed air fixed to a plastic horn. They are meant for a distressed boater to use to signal the Coast Guard, or sometimes they signal the start of play at soccer or Little League games. Whatever the case, the horn is meant to sound loud enough to melt your eardrums. In Scott’s grandfather’s house, one long sound of the horn simultaneously shook the paintings on the walls—and the kids and his wife from their beds.
One year at Christmastime, Gramps retrieved the boat horn only to find the compressed air too cold to make the horn sound. Muttering, he tramped into the kitchen, running the air can under hot water and shaking the propellant loose.
I don’t know much about marine horns. But after Scott told me this story, I located one, and right there in the store aisle I read the text of a warning label that clearly said, “Caution: Contents Under Pressure. Do Not Heat.” I don’t know whether Scott’s grandfather, in his fury, couldn’t read or what. But the thing blew up in his hand, precisely as the Warning… well, warns.
What the warning doesn’t tell you is that when it blows up, it’ll boom loud enough to rouse anyone sleeping in, say, the room situated above the kitchen. I imagine that, sleeping there, Scott’s grandmother got quite a start, too, which was kind of lucky for Scott’s grandfather, since he needed a ride to the emergency room. He came back wearing a bandage the size of a boxing glove. But what really irked him at that point, Scott said, what really set him off and sent him bellowing back at the bottom of the stairs, was that Scott and his brothers were all still tucked under their blankets, invoking the sweet dreams of the innocent.
And so I wonder, in part for Scott in the 1970s and in part for me now, what’s so great about getting up early? For me, now, it’s 5 o’clock in the afternoon. And yet at this impossibly early hour for dining I’m irritatingly aware of gnawing in my stomach. I’m too young to eat dinner at 5 PM… but do you see how getting up early will age you prematurely?
It makes me wonder anew: Who says that rising at daybreak is somehow the hallmark of a virtuous life? Who came up with the notion that sleeping in is somehow lazy, slothful, weak, despised?
What about the merits of a soul that’s well-rested? What of the virtue of late-night camaraderie, or—this summer, anyway—the national solidarity of staying awake to the bitter end of the swim finals? What’s wrong with all of that?
Flickr photo: Brenda Anderson
Find more like this: Politics & Society, Pop Culture, Women , kids, marine horn, Olympics, Parenting, sleep, summer
Ann… the fact that you can even sleep in that late and your children are now at the age to let you – is enough to make this momma jealous. My kids are up between 6 and 7 and are only willing to enertain themselves to their stomachs growl, which is normally just minutes after they wake. Sleeping in here means 8 on a Sunday. That’s a miracle and one my husband and I mastermind up the evening before by picking sticks. Whoever gets the long one sleeps in.
I find myself neither a morning or night person by nature. It would depend on what was going on in general. Put me in a beach house and I love to get up at 6 and walk down to the beach and watch the sun coming up with all the peace and beauty. Put me with my college buddies and I’ll be up all night with plenty of wine and I’m sure I won’t be watching any sunrise! It’s all about the moment in time in your life. Enjoy all of them. Morning, noon or night. Great topic Ann! Keep ‘em coming.
Ann… the fact that you can even sleep in that late and your children are now at the age to let you – is enough to make this momma jealous. My kids are up between 6 and 7 and are only willing to enertain themselves to their stomachs growl, which is normally just minutes after they wake. Sleeping in here means 8 on a Sunday. That’s a miracle and one my husband and I mastermind up the evening before by picking sticks. Whoever gets the long one sleeps in.
I find myself neither a morning or night person by nature. It would depend on what was going on in general. Put me in a beach house and I love to get up at 6 and walk down to the beach and watch the sun coming up with all the peace and beauty. Put me with my college buddies and I’ll be up all night with plenty of wine and I’m sure I won’t be watching any sunrise! It’s all about the moment in time in your life. Enjoy all of them. Morning, noon or night. Great topic Ann! Keep ‘em coming.
And the ironic thing is, how many of you that commented that you aren’t morning people did NOT arise at 7am every Saturday morning as a kid to the latest exploits of The Superfriends? I know I did. I would normally wake up around 6am cause I was scared to death of missing an instant of Casey Kasem’s voiceover of Robin. When I flipped on the TV to discover that Ag Day or the Farmer’s Report or some pre-cartoon crap was still on, I’d mutter in my Batman pajamas and try to keep from falling back to sleep.
All about motivation
And the ironic thing is, how many of you that commented that you aren’t morning people did NOT arise at 7am every Saturday morning as a kid to the latest exploits of The Superfriends? I know I did. I would normally wake up around 6am cause I was scared to death of missing an instant of Casey Kasem’s voiceover of Robin. When I flipped on the TV to discover that Ag Day or the Farmer’s Report or some pre-cartoon crap was still on, I’d mutter in my Batman pajamas and try to keep from falling back to sleep.
All about motivation
Since becoming a parent, I’ve missed the days of waking way past the sun. Even on those incredible days when the 4 year-old and the 15-month old either sleep, I find myself waking with the sun and unable to drift back to sleep. I miss those days. Even now, when I have some small amount of time I find I putter around, picking up toys and scrubbing up dried oatmeal, until those early morning coos. It’s hard to indulge in me time right now, but that is part of the joy.
And, yes, the Olympics caused me much sleep deprivation. But it was worth it.
Great post. Clearly hit a nerve!
You know I love you, but I LOVE getting up early. To have my moments of freedom, no cell phone ringing, no one bothering me, is luxury that you just don’t get at 11:30am when the masses are awake.
Since becoming a parent, I’ve missed the days of waking way past the sun. Even on those incredible days when the 4 year-old and the 15-month old either sleep, I find myself waking with the sun and unable to drift back to sleep. I miss those days. Even now, when I have some small amount of time I find I putter around, picking up toys and scrubbing up dried oatmeal, until those early morning coos. It’s hard to indulge in me time right now, but that is part of the joy.
And, yes, the Olympics caused me much sleep deprivation. But it was worth it.
Great post. Clearly hit a nerve!
You know I love you, but I LOVE getting up early. To have my moments of freedom, no cell phone ringing, no one bothering me, is luxury that you just don’t get at 11:30am when the masses are awake.
Ann,
I love your musings, but this one has me a tad agitated. I cannot stand when my wife sleeps in on the weekends. I feel it is a waste of life. really. full days are so important.
Joel Libava
Ann,
I love your musings, but this one has me a tad agitated. I cannot stand when my wife sleeps in on the weekends. I feel it is a waste of life. really. full days are so important.
Joel Libava
Ann, I was once an early riser. Convinced (or brainwashed) by the early bird gets the worm theories. May I point out that the habits of birds have also changed due to environmental forces? I remember running 20 milers at 4 am. I still run but not at 4, 5 or even 6 am! I have learned that my body has its own rhythm and it changes with the seasons and seasons of life. Some rise early and sleep early, others are busy masterminding in the wee hours. Are the days any less full if you spend your waking hours on a different schedule? I for one vehemently say not at all. BTW, my own personal favorite day of the year & one I actually celebrate is the end to daylight savings time. I hate being forced to awaken an hour earlier just because someone decided it would be a good idea to manipulate time!
Ann, I was once an early riser. Convinced (or brainwashed) by the early bird gets the worm theories. May I point out that the habits of birds have also changed due to environmental forces? I remember running 20 milers at 4 am. I still run but not at 4, 5 or even 6 am! I have learned that my body has its own rhythm and it changes with the seasons and seasons of life. Some rise early and sleep early, others are busy masterminding in the wee hours. Are the days any less full if you spend your waking hours on a different schedule? I for one vehemently say not at all. BTW, my own personal favorite day of the year & one I actually celebrate is the end to daylight savings time. I hate being forced to awaken an hour earlier just because someone decided it would be a good idea to manipulate time!
Marina, Karen, and others of course are absolutely correct. If you have the luxury of owning your own schedule, just listen to your mind/body’s unique rhythms and work when you’re at your peak. It took me a while (once working for myself) to give myself permission to chuck the standard 8-5 mindset and simply go with the flow irrespective of what the clock says. My internal clock says early morning, others get juiced at night, and it really doesn’t matter – just ignore the pre-fab expectations of others and play with the deck you’ve got!
Marina, Karen, and others of course are absolutely correct. If you have the luxury of owning your own schedule, just listen to your mind/body’s unique rhythms and work when you’re at your peak. It took me a while (once working for myself) to give myself permission to chuck the standard 8-5 mindset and simply go with the flow irrespective of what the clock says. My internal clock says early morning, others get juiced at night, and it really doesn’t matter – just ignore the pre-fab expectations of others and play with the deck you’ve got!
I think the virtue is not waking up early, but knowing thyself. Ask yourself: if you could go to wake up without an alarm clock, what time would you get up? What if you did this for a week? What would be your average time?
Then why do so many of us set our alarm clocks for 5 or 6am?
I blogged about my stand against Sleep Deprivation Braggarts http://felfoldi.wordpress.com/?s=sleep
Check out http://www.amazon.com/Promise-Sleep-Medicine-Connection-Happiness/dp/0440509017 for more on this subject.
I think the virtue is not waking up early, but knowing thyself. Ask yourself: if you could go to wake up without an alarm clock, what time would you get up? What if you did this for a week? What would be your average time?
Then why do so many of us set our alarm clocks for 5 or 6am?
I blogged about my stand against Sleep Deprivation Braggarts http://felfoldi.wordpress.com/?s=sleep
Check out http://www.amazon.com/Promise-Sleep-Medicine-Connection-Happiness/dp/0440509017 for more on this subject.