I am not a morning person.  This is not news to anyone, really.  I sort of thought I might grow out of my night-owlishness with age, or with a kids, and certainly I thought with three kids I’d be up with the sunshine and happy about it.  Not the case.

Asher is up with the sunshine, and happy about it. For a time, he’d eat and drift back off to sleep.  This ended the very day he began really crawling.  Now, as soon as he’s up, he’s ready to move.  He usually wakes up between 6-6:30.  At this time, I am out cold, so Brian retrieves the babe.  After I feed him, he crawls up on his daddy’s chest and basically says, “Ok dad!  Time to play!”  Brian is (obviously!) a morning person, so they get up, and Brian reads and studies while Asher crawls around playing with toys or inspecting specks of dirt on the carpet.

Stella is usually up as soon as the clock in her room reaches 7:15 (though occasionally as late as 8:00,) and Oliver starts yelling soon after that “Mom, I Awake!  I Ready Breffust (breakfast) Mom!”  So by 7:30, we’re all up and there’s coffee left in the pot for me (thank you, thoughtful husband!) and the kids watch a show on PBS while I figure out what day it is and what’s for breakfast.  Perfect, right?

Right.  Except that, since he is such a morning person, Brian is very productive in the morning, and loves to schedule meetings for bizarre times like 6:30 and 7:00 a.m.  What is up with this?  But there are other people who actually agree to meet at these times.  He loves it.  I, uh, do not.  Generally, I still attempt (unsuccessfully) to lull Asher back to sleep at that 6:30ish time.  After accepting that it’s just not going to happen, I lie on the floor for ten minutes or so, which Asher thinks is hilarious, and then begin to gather my wits, which is important since I need to be prepared to outwit three quick and clever kids all day.

Yesterday, all three woke up as Brian was leaving at 6:45, and all three woke up crabby.  Stella had lost TV privileges for the whole day, which left me feeling like I was being punished.  I asked Stella if she knew what sort of attitude she was choosing, and she answered “A bad one.”  Yes, sweet one, that’s true.  I explained (again) that even when it is very difficult to have a happy heart, and when we want to be crabby, (like, for example, a four-year old who refused to fall sleep until midnight.  Or like a mommy who does not like getting up early with fussy, clingy littles,) we can still choose a good attitude.  “Mom,” she asked, “Did ya ever have ta choose a happy heart when ya didnt’ feel like it?”  I know exactly how you feel, I told her.