The Early Bird

I've never been an early riser. In fact, pre-children days, I've been known to sleep in until 11am or later whenever I could. Some Sunday mornings, I'm afraid to admit, there were times it was a challenge for my husband and I get to our favorite Mexican restaurant before it closed at 2pm. Those were the days.

Now days, however, it may be hard for those who know me to believe I've become a morning person. In fact, I've embraced the whole Early Bird theory. This transformation has mostly occurred since having my children. Raising children is a selfless endless job…I start the day early on getting them ready for pre-school before leaving for work, and finish the day with dinner, tubby-time and stories. But commitments don't end there. Oh no - after they fall to sleep, its folding laundry, picking up the house, and catching up with my husband on the happenings of the day. I'm lucky if I roll into bed by 11pm.

Somehow and somewhere along this endless, thankless routine, I discovered morning time. It's the one slice of the day where no one can claim me. It's the one time of day all for me to do with as I choose. I crave this time to help keep my sense of self – yes, I am a mother, a wife, a colleague, etc. but I was "me" before I became any of those other things, and I don't want to lose that. It is the time of day to jog, to write, to read, to reflect, and to drink an uninterrupted cup of coffee while catching up on the news.

I was craving this morning in particular. You see, the weather in Dallas has been quite un-Texas like for the last few days. It's been dark and wet and downright unpleasant, aside from that wonderful flurry that started it all (see prior blog). This change put a temporary damper on my Early Bird desire. So I was particularly interested in getting back to routine.

My children, however, had other ideas. At about 4 am, my almost 5yo (Queen Kicks-a-lot or QK) crawled in bed with us. This was such an unusual event, that I didn't even bother picking her up and putting her back into bed assuming she had a bad dream. Then at about 4:30, my almost 3yo (Cuddly Cactus) crawled into bed with us - my husband refers to her as cuddly as a cactus, and God love her, he's right. Pushing away one moment, and clutching cheek-to-cheek Siamese-like the next.

Before I knew it, I was sandwiched between QK and Cuddly Cactus trying with supreme effort not to move so they would both go back to sleep. This feat, I imagine, would be similar to remaining completely still in the rain forest fraught with centipedes and mosquitoes to avoid alerting a passing panther. Then moments later I heard it…that slow wheezing sleepy child snore – not once, but twice. This was my queue to slowly pry away from their clutches and descend downstairs to enjoy "me" time once again. Did I feel guilty? Not for a blessed moment! This was, after all, my Early Bird time to use as I choose…jogging, reading, reflecting, and, even on occasion, cuddling a cactus.