Friday, June 26, 2009

Good morning

Many spiritual traditions teach that morning is the most important part of the day, and that great effort should be expended in order to it set it right. The theory goes like this: a serene and peaceful morning results in a serene and peaceful day. Ok, I'm on board. Serenity now. The problem is, I have a hard time getting out of bed. Sure, I wish I could say I was one of those people that wakes up with the sun, bright eyed and ready to greet the day with enthusiasm, but I'm not. I really wish I could say I'm one of those yogis who sit in meditation as the world begins to wake, bringing a sense of peace not only to themselves but all those around them, but I'm not. Hell, I would gladly sacrifice the idea of a spiritual morning if I could end up with a Leave it to Beaver morning. Or any cheesy 1960's sitcom for that matter, just so long as I'm all made-up wearing an apron and perhaps even pearls, hair coiffed, the children washed and dressed, dad looking handsome in shirt and tie.

This is not the start of my day. Rather, it goes like this. At some point way to early for my liking, I become aware that Ryan is no longer lying next to me. I know my time under the covers will soon end, and I am not pleased. Sometime shortly thereafter, I hear the stomp stomp stomp, pardon me, cute pitter-patter, of feet above my head. The noise (regardless of it being an annoying stomp or heartwarming patter) is usually accompanied by shrieks, all out screams, and the thuds created as Emily throws her toys onto the floor. She has gotten a good 12 hours and is ready to go, isn't the rest of the house?

Eventually someone is brave enough to come and get me. Some mornings its Ryan, but sometimes he sends Nora into the dragon's lair. Suddenly there is a face 1/2 inch next to mine. "Mommy, Daddy says you need to get out of bed! Come on, the sun is up!" She may poke at me, but is learning that is not very wise. She leaves. I don't move. Someone comes back a few minutes later. "Mommy, Daddy said you have to get up now!! Mom!". I realize Ryan is probably leaving for work, and if I want to see him at all before noon, I have to get out of bed. I emerge with tousled hair, black make-up circles under my eyes, and mismatched pj's because God knows money is tight, why spend it on pj's that no one sees except for the kids?

Every morning I make it upstairs, and every morning Emily is the first to greet me. She smiles her big cheesy grin and says, "Hi! Hi! Hi!" while she waves. And of course I melt, because she doesn't speak much, but she speaks to me every morning. Aww kid, I love you so much. Warm fuzzy. Then, before the warm fuzzy has an opportunity to wear off, Ryan hands me a cup of coffee. Sometimes its a silent transaction, sometimes he will warn me its hot. But there is never an exchange of pleasantries, because Ryan is not an idiot. Momma needs that first cup of coffee.

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