There is something about waking up in the morning. The alarm goes off. I try to ignore the fact that I must get up but then do (albeit reluctantly). Holding the handrail and sliding my hand along the wall, I groggily make my way down the stairs as if I’m half blind. Coffee. I need coffee.
Minutes later, I climb back into bed with coffee in hand and ease into the day. It is peaceful. YaYa is still asleep and the sun seems equally as reluctant to get the day going. I sip my coffee, notice my breathing and, when I’m ready, start to connect to the rest-of-world by reading emails and checking into the social networking sites. News will come later – maybe — when I’m ready for doom and gloom — but not now.
About the time the sun is on the verge appearance, I leave the warmth of my bed, wake YaYa, and prepare to face the day. This action is slight but the resulting effect is extreme.
Rather quickly the hustle and bustle takes hold the morning. The result is chaotic and out of control – no matter how much I try to temper it. Already, my attention is being pulled to the long list of to-do’s and problems without visible solutions. And the stress builds as quickly as the sun rises.
I return to YaYa’s room to find he is still in bed. Meanwhile, much time has slipped away. “Get up!” I insist, before hurrying away to continue getting myself ready.
By this point, unless distracted from my stressors by some other pleasantry be it a good music, a friendly text message, or other, it doesn’t take much to set me off. I sip my coffee in a feeble attempt to remember the delicious taste morning peace. Deep breaths, I remind myself. It’s just another lovely day in California.
With just a teensy bit of optimism, I open my bedroom door to gather the remaining items and head out to YaYa’s school and my work. This is when optimism meets a wall of YaYa’s own morning chaos. Fueled on teenage-boy-testosterone, his chaos is 100 times more potent than mine. It’s a wonder how we ever make it out the door on time.
My reminder to hurry up is met with resistance and huff.
Hours later I am still wondering which YaYa has a greater need for: more sleep, a bit of morning peace, or a new watch!
Ummmmmmmmm. Singing that Yoga song.
Um…do you mean “ommmm”?
hmmmm… YaYa is already a pretty darn responsible kid. Maybe the next step in “growth” is for him to have his own alarm clock and getting out of bed himself. I, personally, waited until almost high school before I did the same with my youngest son.
Little things make a difference.
Great idea, Wes. I actually thought of that long ago. It doesn’t work.