At 31 years old, I find that I’ve reached a point in life at which I love early mornings just as much as late nights.
Today I woke to the sweet sound of MR’s soft, sleepy morning voice. She was awake, ready to have Mom do her hair, eager to select today’s hottest fashion, and famished from her adventures in dreamland. I hopped out of bed with a greater sense of urgency than usual since we had less than half of an hour to get her out the door and off to school. We were rushed, but considering that our internal clocks are set to J-K Standard Time (JKST) which runs anywhere from 7 to 23 minutes behind the presiding time zone, it was nothing unusual. Rushing is something to which we’ve simply had to adapt.
But provided we have enough time, the early weekday morning ritual is one I cherish. Sometimes we talk a lot over cereal and sandwich-making; other times we’re still sleepy and silently enjoy that daddy/daughter time together at one of the calmest hours of the day. (MB and Pitter Patter generally don’t start stirring until MR’s off to school). On the best days, K will have just finished her morning run by the time MR and I make our way downstairs. Sometimes we’ll make parfaits with yogurt, fruit, and granola. Occasionally K will have old-fashioned oatmeal or German pancakes ready. Whatever the daily fare, it’s a rare chance for the three of us to ease into the day over breakfast, coffee (well, for me anyway), newspaper horoscopes, and tales of fervent 1st grade boy-chasing.
I love those mornings.
Despite the aforementioned JKST handicap, our running behind today was primarily due to my having stolen a few minutes too many of what I consider to be the very best kind of sleep: those sensuous nine-minute intervals in between snooze cycles on the clock radio. As parents of three, K and I both enjoy precious little sleep. We each set the alarm a bit early most days to ensure we’ll have at least two or three chances to stave off the unwelcome AM torrent of FM static and incessant beeping .
Note: we intentionally set the radio dial between stations (country and/or top 40stations work the best as they’re all basically total crap) to achieve the most jarring and insulting combination of noises possible. (This helps to ensure that we will actually wake when the alarm sounds.)
There’s a subtle psychological gratification to playing the “snooze game”. It’s just one of the myriad ways in which we fool ourselves into thinking we have control over our external world, that we can somehow manipulate it according to our needs or desires. If time is an oppressive and unyielding taskmaster, then our clock radio in its gloriously brazen discord is his obnoxious and autocratical henchman. The truth is that despite our own wishes to the contrary, inevitably we all surrender to the taskmaster’s command. But it can be immensely satisfying to whack his henchman squarely on the head a couple of times before we do. . .
JF
