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As usual, I dread waking up early in the morning. I’m certainly NOT a morning person but now that I’m being pregnant with a night owl, bothering me till 2am last night, I dread it even more since I’m not getting enough sleep.

Every school day, I would wake up at six to get ready. At six forty-five, when I’m all dressed up, I would wake the kids up so they can get ready while I prepare their lunch box. By seven-fifteen, all of us would hop into the car so I can drive them to school, which later I’d go to my office and clock in at eight.

When the alarm blares at five-fifty, because I need ten minutes to fully awake before starting my day, Luca who’s lying next to me in another thick blanket (I was adamant about not sharing mine) groans in annoyance.

“What time is it,” his deep, hoarse voice enquires in the dark as I sit up, about to leave the bed because it’s been ten minutes since the first alarm.

“Six,” I answer while trying my best to remove his heavy arm that is trapping my abdo