I am not a morning person.
Or at least, I am not right now. I find that I go through phases in my life when I do enjoy waking early, and others when I most decidedly do not.
There was a time, just before the boys were born (particularly the summer before I had Lucien) when I would get up early with Chris, see him off to work, and be outside in our little apartment patio to enjoy the view, fresh air, and my tea. All this before a quarter to eight. It was so peaceful, so beautiful; I would spend the first few hours of my day puttering in our little garden before the sun became too hot, and just relish in the silence and beauty that is early morning in this town.
Even when we still lived in Toronto there were times when I was able to enjoy and appreciate mornings for what they are. This time however, I was up early due to necessity. I worked at a local cafe which had to be open on Saturdays before seven o 'clock. It was the most amazing thing to witness; the city as I'd never seen before. It was winter; and before the sun had even begun to rise above the horizon, everything had a pale blue cast to it. The snow sparked, there was silence (at least as silent as a large city can be!), and not a soul to be seen. It was not eerie as it is late at night, when even though no one is in sight you half expect them to be there, hiding in some unseen shadows. Instead, there was a calmness in the air, a quiet breathe before the city began its day.
But as I said, I am not a morning person. Right now. I get up as early as I need to, or after as many times as I can hit the snooze button. I stumble down the stairs; trying to keep up with the dogs anxious to be let outside, but not so fast as to risk my still-asleep body falling down them.
Water is put on for tea and coffee, dogs are let outside, breakfast is made. Breakfast is eaten, Chris' lunch prepared, and somewhere in between babies are collected from beds. It is the same routine, with only minor variables, but I just don't enjoy it the way I have in the past.
There have been a couple mornings, here and there, when I did feel rested enough to get up a little early. I was able to get in a few minutes of reading or knitting before the morning started, and that was special. But on the whole; mornings and I do not agree.
Perhaps it is the fact that I am still waking up twice a night to feed or settle Marcus. I am only ever up for perhaps 20 minutes at a time, yet it is amazing how much that disturbs your sleep. It is easy to forget what it was like to get a full, uninterrupted night's sleep, and I fear it will be years before I am able to experience that again!
I know that is not true. By the time Lucien was a year and a half, he was sleeping through the night, almost 10 hours straight. So there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it is just hard to see...
So for days like today, when every cell in my body cries out for me to curl back into bed, I need to keep my head up, my eyes open, and drink another tea.
I suppose I better go put on more water.