Thursday, February 3, 2011

Eight Hour Magic

It is 7:21 a.m.  and all is quiet. This very rarely happens here. I just put Jordan on the bus.  I enjoyed the last few sips of my morning tea, and now I am sitting down to blog.  There are few things I love more than the peace of early morning. It's only been these recent years that I have learned to love the morning.  As much as I love sleeping in, when I wake up late I always think about those lost hours.  I am one of those lucky human beings that gets a full eight almost every single night, so to sleep any longer than that feels like a waste.

I owe my eight hours of sleep every night to my husband.  He is also an early riser, but by force. He wakes at 4:30 every morning. To get any semblance of sleep he needs to be in bed by 10pm and I go at that time too.  Even though my days starts much later than his, I still go so he doesn't feel alone.  He wakes up before the crack of dawn and salts (or shovels) our icy walks, sometimes has time for a hot shower, and is off to work a long and sometimes stressful day.  I will never use the word "lazy" to describe my husband.  In the eleven years that we have been together, there has not been a single day that he has rolled over and said that he didn't want to go to work. The only time he has missed have been the births of our daughters, surgeries for our daughters, if he is sicker than a dog, and the rare, but occasional car malfunction.  He goes to work no matter what. 

(Two little girls have joined me in the time it took me to write this. They have also begun a dance party in the living room.) Morning peace is short lived around here. But I got my eight, so it's all good!

Good morning and good day everyone!


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