It is 7:05 on Monday morning. I do not have to work today, but I've been up for 2 hours. I have cleaned my kitchen, gotten caught up on Gossip Girl while having my coffee (OMG is Chuck dead?!?!?), fired off a few emails, and started a few new blog entries. While I'm not this productive every morning, I confess I love getting up before everyone else. I love having time to myself to do whatever it is I want to do. That may mean going for a run, doing laundry, cleaning up, or just reading a good book while enjoying a cup of coffee.
Jason is the exact opposite of this. He is definitely a night owl. In fact, if work hours didn't dictate our sleep schedules, I'm not sure we'd ever see each other. I'm convinced we'd pass like ships in the night, his bed-time of choice being my chosen time to rise.
Of course this means that I, by default, am usually the one up with Nicholas each morning. And if I'm already up, and have had a chance to ease into my morning by whatever means I chose that day, I don't mind. If I've already had some "me" time, I love getting him up and spending some one-on-one time with him. But if I am woken up by him, and I have to immediately tend to him first, then I feel like I was robbed of my morning. I feel cheated. (Yes, yes I know. This is parenthood. That's the way it is, your kids get all your time. You have no time for yourself. Whatever. This is confession, right? I'm confessing here, no judgement allowed, so hush. And for the record, I'm in the middle of an epiphany as I write this, so SSHH!) After many days/weeks in a row of getting up with him by myself, I end up feeling like it's not fair that it always falls to me to do so, but I suppose in reality what I truly feel is unfair is that I didn't get my "me" time.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I hear my little monkey jumping around in his bed. Good thing I've already been up for awhile.
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