Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Am I a Morning Person?
First of all, I need you to know something. I am NOT a morning person. Hard as this might be to believe--it's true. I blame my mother... Each night I stay up late working on things I have wanted to get done all day... only to wake up regretting it the next morning.
My husband and I have a little routine.
At 4:25 the alarm* sounds on the dresser two feet away from my husband's side of the bed. We don't have nightstands. He gets up and walks the two steps to shut it off.
A minute later I begin to surface to a faint state of consciousness with an inkling that an alarm has sounded somewhere in the distance. I stir--just enough to let my husband know that I am surfacing. A part of me--the devil on my shoulder, I suspect--longs to hear the words, "Do you want me to do your paper route for you?" While the angel, if you want to call her that, reminds me that he needs his sleep at least as much as I do, and I just need to put my feet on the floor.
This morning I surfaced more slowly than usual. I heard the very real, almost tangible words, "You know that I will do your paper route whenever you want me to, don't you?" YES! I mean, yes--yes, I know this. Was that an offer or just a statement of fact? I continue to surface from a delectable slumber within the warm folds of my quilt. My feet hang over the side of the bed. I consider plunging back into the depths.
"Put your feet on the floor." I'm thinking about it, Angel. Back off.
"He needs his sleep..." I know, I KNOW!
Seriously, that angel needs to take a vacation. My feet hit the floor and I sense that I am suddenly vertical. I feel my way to my closet. I've won--or lost, depending on whose side I am on, and the jury is still out on that one.
Yes, this is the ritual every morning. When I first adopted the route, I vowed that I would get up when the alarm went off and my responsibility would not become my husband's burden. The first time I "let" him attempt the paper route, it was because I was SUFFERING from mastitis. I was so incredibly sick that the thought of moving nearly reduced me to tears. When he left to conquer my route, I lay in bed considering how long it would take him to do what would normally take me 30 minutes. Oh, help.
He brought the papers back to our garage to fold them, asked me a few logistical questions, and set out. I couldn't sleep. I was so sick and wanting to curl into the fetal position SO BADLY, and I COULD. NOT. SLEEP. Feet on the ground. Clothes on. Keys located.
Somehow I found my way to the route where he was a few houses up the first street. We switched cars. I assured him that I could endure 30 minutes to save him an hour and a half. Eventually, I made my way back home... and back into bed. Yuck. That was not fun.
Later when I was a couple of months pregnant, he insisted on folding the papers to allow me an additional 30-45 minutes of sleep each morning. He did that for months. Then, as I think I mentioned previously, he took over the entire route for two months after our baby was born. Truly--I wish every woman had a man as selfless and shareful.
So no, I am not a morning person. I like to stay up late writing, reading, or whatever else. For the first two months of having this paper route, I quit every single morning. No lie. As I drove to pick up the papers, I would tell myself, "Today is the day. I am done. I am quitting today." Then somehow I would find myself awake and happy to be so... and then I would find myself going to get the papers the next morning.
If anyone wonders what possesses me to keep at it day after day, well... "An angel makes me do it."
Early bird or Night owl?
*NOTE: A little aside about our sideways alarm clock. The alarm clock that I have had since high school died last week, so we are using this one (probably Rob's clock from high school--notice the wires sticking out where the stand used to be) until we can think of a good reason to have the numbers read horizontally again.