I set my alarm for 5:15AM.
It sounds so early.
I allow myself one snooze before I have to get out of bed.
Okay, I confess…on really bad mornings, I sneak in two.
I pull my hair into a messy ponytail. Grabbing socks and sneakers, I sleepwalk my way downstairs into the kitchen.
I boldly grind freshly roasted beans at 5:30AM. (It’s what my life looks like being married to a recently, self-professed coffee snob.)
The aroma immediately jumpstarts my brain.
I pour half-and-half into a large mug, turning strong-black-liquid perfectly golden with the stirring of a spoon.
I indulge in my first sip.
Aaaaaahhhh. Now I’m fully awake.
I find my favorite spot on the couch and snuggle in to do some reading.
The room is dimly lit, a light blanket covers my lap, and hot coffee sits just within arm’s reach.
The sun faithfully makes an appearance, its light slowly climbing over the horizon and dancing across the neatly planted fields outside our home.
This is my favorite time of day.
Now don’t get me wrong, I positively despise dragging myself out of a warm bed in the wee hours of darkness.
But once I’m up, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
It’s so quiet and peaceful. My mind is clear and well-rested.
I read my morning devotional- Jesus Calling.
I read whatever books have presently grabbed my attention- Culture of Honor, Interrupted, Radical, 7.
I pray for wisdom, direction, and patience, especially if it’s a homeschool day.
I pray for individuals in need of prayer.
I surrender anything on my heart that has me feeling anxious or worried that day.
I could sit there for hours…but now it’s almost 6:15AM.
This means it’s time for exercise.
I jump on the treadmill or play a Fitness Blender video while listening to Christian Workout Hits on MOG.
I give myself 30 minutes to compensate for my extremely healthy appetite before hitting the ‘locker room’.
At 6:45AM a quick marine-style shower is in order. I throw on some casual clothes before little knocks can be heard outside my bathroom door.
7:00AM means it’s time to drag any still-slumbering children out of bed and start our day together.
I help little ones get dressed and groomed, then it will be time for breakfast.
Y’all…this is my oxygen.
The flight attendant who tells you about donning your own mask before putting on your child’s, is dead-on right.
Because you really can’t help your kiddo if you’re knocked out unconscious or goneski.
Early morning is my time to invest in me…
so that I might be filled up, prepared to be the best mommy and wife I can be.
And if a certain night owl causes me to oversleep, because he has kept me up late with his shenanigans…
well then, I am admittedly a very ugly person.
Do you see how I take responsibility for my actions?
Yes, I’m very mature like that.
Seriously though, if I miss my ‘morning time’…
I’m grumpy.
I’m ornery.
I’m overwhelmed.
I’m fat.
I’m mean.
I’m a loser.
I’m behind…and I beat myself up about it ALL day.
If you don’t believe me, ask my hubby.
He’d be all too willing to attest to my pathetic behavior.
Now I’m certainly not proud of what I have a tendency to become in this situation
and that is what motivates me to get my lazy bones out of bed each morning.
I need my oxygen more than I need 8 hours of sleep.
