All Akimbo On Being Still

Is the ability to linger in bed genetic?
I don’t mean after sex … that’s a different kind of lingering, people. I mean just the regular kind of lingering after you wake up in the morning.
I leap out of bed, almost as soon as my eyes open – always have – and I’m wondering if that’s just the way I’m wired.
My husband can lie in bed for hours. “I’m really tired. I woke up at 7 this morning,” he’ll say as he emerges from the bedroom at 10 (or 10:30, or 11 …) on a Saturday morning.

“Well, then, what were you doing in there all this time?” I’ll want to know. “I was just laying there. Because I was tired,” he’ll explain, looking at me as if I’m the world’s biggest idiot.
Mojo does it, too. Not to the extent that his dad does, but he does do it. And he many mornings he wants me to lie there with him. Aack.

I try to indulge him, climbing in bed next to him when he calls out, “Maaaaamaaaaa!” first thing in the morning. But, oh, being inactive – knowing that there are a multitude of writing deadlines to meet, laundry to do, floors to clean, just lying there with no TV to watch, nothing to read, nothing to do — that’s hard for me.

I try to chat with my boy, but he’s more of a grunter than a conversationalist first thing in the morning (after that first bellow where he summons me from the depths of the house, that is). When that fails, I find my eyes wandering along the path ABCs on the wallpaper border at the tops of his walls. Then my mind meanders through the (looooong) list of things I have to accomplish before the day ends, and that’s all I can take.
I try to enjoy being there next to my warm, sweet little boy because I know he won’t always want me to climb into bed with him. But, truly, it’s agony for me. I’m really working on this, though, because although I do get to mark more off my unwieldy to-do list by springing to action, I know my inability to be still is costing me so much more than it would to just spend the time.