I’ve found that if I wake up at 5:30am before everyone else in the family I can be alone for about an hour. On these mornings I make a cup of coffee, maybe a bagel, grab my pen and paper and write a bit. I have the opportunity to start my day with a clear head and some creative release. My therapy if you will. If I’m being honest, sleeping is one of most favorite things aside from wine and summertime. I wake up ready to go to bed. I daydream about my pajamas and what it will feel like to crawl back into bed for the nights slumber. Surely someone can relate. No matter how hard I plan to be in bed on time, which for me 9pm would be ideal, it rarely happens. Let’s take tonight for example.
My plan for the afternoon was to get home from work, take my bra off, cook dinner and lay around. When I opened the door the baby was terrorizing the cabinet doors and Brennon was washing dishes! I could see my plan to do nothing was quickly fading. Before I knew it kiddo was in my arms and Brennon was fussing about the laundry. How dare he mention laundry to me. He knows I have a strong aversion to doing laundry. To show my solidarity for his cleaning efforts I washed one load. I’m currently lying in bed with laundry as my mate. Why has it come to this? This is a nightmare. I should be sleeping right now. I should also be doing laundry right now but I’m writing. The baby has been pulling my hair and nibbling my shoulder like he didn’t just eat chicken and rice. He fell asleep after about 20 minutes of futile fighting. The force is strong within that one. I got the laundry done though.
I actually ended up cleaning the bathroom as well. I organized the vanity and my little book nook. My night stand still holds about five books I’m halfway through. It’ll only take me two more months to finish them. I’m okay with that. The house is quiet again and I can reflect on my day. I can dread that today was Monday or I can be thankful that I got the chance to love my family for another day. I could decide that I’m over this laundry and just want it to end or I can be thankful for the blessing of a closet full. I have a choice everyday to be ungrateful or to be thankful. In the late hours of the night when I’m the only one awake, walking through my home from one room to the next, I’m thankful. I’m thankful for the carpet beneath my feet, I’m thankful for the small toys left scattered in the living room. And even though it pains me to no end, I am thankful for the socks in front of the couch I asked Brennon five times to put in the wash.
The sweet thing about being a night owl is that I can soak it all in. I can center myself and I can recharge myself. A book, a beer, a glass of wine, some writing, some deep breathing, or stretching. Whatever it takes to get rid of the clutter and create space for gratitude.
Stay thankful. Be a light.