It’s hard being a morning person in a family of non-morning people. Because I become the one who has to get the grumpy ones up. Thank goodness for our dog and cat, because they are cheery in the morning and happy to see me. I can’t say the same for the rest of my brood.

I am fortunate to be one of those people whose eyes pop open wide awake when the alarm goes off. Sometimes I even wake up before the alarm sounds because I hate the sound of it so much my body subconsciously tries to beat it. My feet hit the floor and I’m ready to go, no matter the amount of sleep I’ve had.

When the kids were little, they were up at 5 a.m. wanting to play, eat breakfast or watch cartoons, even on the weekends. Now that they’ve reached teen/tween status, dragging them out of bed has become quite the undertaking. It doesn’t matter if they go to bed early or late, they are the same unpleasant people whether they’ve had seven hours or 11 hours of sleep.

My husband is far past the teen/tween stage and he is by far the worst. Granted, he has sleep apnea which affects his quality of sleep. He rarely wears his mask like he should because he usually falls asleep before he can put it on. He’s the king of falling asleep in front of the TV, letting out a grizzly bear snore and telling us he’s “just resting his eyes.” I’ve given up trying to get him to wear the mask. You can lead a horse to water…

Of the kids, my daughter is definitely the hardest to wake up in the morning and always has been. She turns into a beast I call Brunhilda with angry eyes, wild hair and a scary voice. You would swear I’m trying to murder her the way she acts when woken up. I knew before she was born that she would be a feisty one. She kicked me so much in the womb that I turned black and blue on the outside of my stomach. No joke. She doesn’t even sleep peacefully. She kicks and moans and groans and swats. When we’ve had to share a bed, I’ve gotten smacked in the face by a flailing fist a few times.

As for the three boys, they just act comatose until I’m literally yelling and threatening to take away their beloved cell phones if they don’t get up by the time I count to 10. This is after I’ve politely and gently tried to wake them up five times. I blame their dad for this behavior. He has taught them the fine art of saying, “But I’m just stretching. I need to wake up.” Then they promptly fall back sound asleep.

I long for the days when their eyes would pop open and smiles of joy would light up their little faces at the promise of a new day. Now I’m met with glazed stares, excuses and pleas for more sleep. From my husband too. Just five more minutes. Just five more minutes. Just five more minutes …

One day I’d had enough and I purposely didn’t wake my husband up until he literally had to be out the door to make it to work on time. Let’s just say after that, he started trying to get up to his own alarm. He should be thankful his wife is a living alarm clock full of joy every morning.