In our household there are two morning people and two non-morning people. The great irony is that the two morning people go off together each morning…leaving the two non-morning peeps to wrangle their way out of the house. Together. Ugh.
I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be a morning person, someone who springs out of bed, whistles in the shower, and appears refreshed and bright-eyed and cheerful before leaving the house. Like my husband. He sits up immediately when his alarm goes off. No rolling over or lollygagging in bed for just five more minutes. After showering and shaving, he heads downstairs for cereal. I hear the front door open as he goes outside to fetch the paper.
My son is an even earlier riser, bounding into our room at 6am to jump into our shower before his father can get to it. I hear the two of them chatting animatedly downstairs – chipper voices, packed, with energy, ready to attack the day.
I usually stay in bed waiting for the silence that falls after they leave at 7am. Their voices become muffled once they go outside, and I hear a faint boom, boom, boom as they bound down the wooden side stairs to our house. Then nothing, just the sound of cars racing by on Reno Road. I might allow myself the luxury of checking a few e-mails before I engage in the dreaded task of rousing my 9-year-old daughter. 715am, 720. Ok, time to get her.
I go into her room. “Good morning, angel,” I say brightly. I perch on her bed and kiss her all over, her soft hair and both cheeks. She is lovable and angelic in her sleeping state. I roll her body to and fro gently to jar her awake. I usually am able to rouse her enough that she climbs onto my back for a piggyback ride downstairs. I deposit her on the family room couch where she pulls her favorite throw around her.
“What would you like for breakfast?” I continue with forced cheeriness.
“A waffle,” she grunts.
I make her waffle and place it on the coffee table in front of her. She continues to sleep, head thrown back on the couch. I indulge in the silence by looking at the morning headlines, putting off just a few more minutes my second least favorite task: making her lunch.
I glance at the clock: 745am. “Lila,” I say with a warning tone in my voice. “Wake up and eat.” She stirs.
I check Facebook and Twitter. 753am. “Lila!” This time my tone is sharp. I mean business. “It’s time to get going!”
“I’m up! Stop yelling at me!”
“Well, you’re going to be late.”
“You’re so grumpy in the morning!”
“I’m grumpy? You’re grumpy!”
“Yeah, well you made me grumpy.”
She was late to school for the second time this week. I go home for a much needed cup of coffee.