By nature, I am not a morning person. If left on my own, I do tend to drift to a schedule where I both stay up and sleep later. At least, I think I do. I’ll be honest, it’s been a long while since I could put that to the test, but it feels right.
Still, life has been requiring me to wake up earlier than I’d like for a good long while now. I am much more likely to be awake by 7:00am than asleep, but that still doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.
Generally speaking, it that time in the morning I want to be in my own little world. Listen to music or maybe the news. Make some coffee. Have a few sips while I think about all the last decisions I could have made that would allow me to wake up later.
Sure, I can fake chipperness if needed, and there are a few times when it is even genuine. But not always.
And sometimes, right as I am in the middle of enjoying just a bit of alone time, I hear that particular snuffling that tells me our baby is about to wake up.
I can’t begin to describe how much I hope for her to remain asleep for just five more minutes. Please.
But soon it is time to feed and change her. Since my wife is breastfeeding, and it is easier to just go straight to the source, she takes care of that. I take care of clothes.
I look down at that little pink child, and I just melt. Then she smiles and I soar. I tickle her just a little and the smile gets even bigger.
The past week, the highlight of my day has been the fifteen minutes I can use to change her clothes, get smiles and snuggles. It makes everything else okay.
I’m about to go to bed, and for a change I am looking forward to waking up just so I can have that fifteen minutes with my baby daughter.
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