Good morning weekend style

On the weekends, the kids wake up before I do and find me in my bed.  They like to snuggle.  What really happens is this:

The snuggle causes some hair pulling.  Not tremendously painful for me, but it's hair pulling nonetheless.  I'd like to think we are spooning, but some little feet inevitably kick me in the crotch.  Or, two little feet knead my belly, alternately kicking me in the full bladder.  Sometimes I wonder if the toddler is actually trying to invent a new game called "Let's See If I Can Make Mama Wet Her Bed - Tee Hee."

Sometimes, to protect my bladder (which I suppose I could empty if I actually got up out of bed but until 4 minutes ago I was sound asleep and happy with the state of my entire body), I flip over and turn my back to the child.  I need to do this more often than not with Tulip.  That girl is tons of pointy elbows and knees.  I get expertly jabbed in the spine and neck vertebrae while simultaneously kneed in the small of my back.  But at least I can continue to ignore my swelling bladder.  I cannot, however, ignore the bruise that is developing on my brow which is the cause of my momentary glance over the shoulder to say "good morning" only to receive a head butt.  A mistake, of course, but a head butt nonetheless.  Oh, and more hair pulling too.

If Wolfie is up first, he simply slithers in to bed next to me.  He has learned the art of snuggling.  This kid wants to snuggle.  And talk.  My bladder is spared but my groggy head has to wrap itself around this:
"Mama, if you ever want to distract a robot, all you have to do is ring a loud bell.  Or, if you need to wipe out an entire army of robot octopuses, you just have to turn on the siren of a fire truck."

Good morning.

If all three of them are awake at the same time, they battle for a coveted spot next to Mama.  Usually one of them has to lay directly on top of me.  Oh, isn't is sweet, the image of me enveloped in a blanket of my snuggling offspring?  It is, for about 20 seconds, but, they are awake and want to play which means they begin to flail around trying to tickle each other.  I get a knee in the bladder.  And an elbow in the chin.

This is attachment parenting, folks.  Jealous?

I shoo them out of the room.  I tell them to play for 5 minutes (because that is the maximum time they will leave me alone) so Mama can rest a bit more and then I'll get up and fix them breakfast .

So they scamper off to play with each other and I listen to them from my bed.

"I did it!  I really did it!" squeals Luna.  She's three so everything is awesome.
"Luna, that's so great," her sister says.  And she means it.  Tulip is just as awed and proud of her little sister's accomplishments lately as I am.  Especially how well she draws and colors.

Then, "Wow, guys, come look at the sky.  It's so beautiful."  And that's Tulip noticing the sunrise.

"Hey girls, do you want to play baby dragons?" Wolfie engages both of his baby sisters in a current favorite make-believe game.

So as I lay in bed and my body recuperates, my heart fills.  And even though it's only been 3 minutes and 30 seconds, I can ignore my bladder a little bit more.  I get up and go see my kids.