Morning Time

Thursday, October 9, 2014

I'm a morning person. And I don't even drink coffee. 

I am at my best in the morning hours. So I've tried to focus on being the Mom I want to be during that important tiny window of my children's day.

I remember when my dark & early mornings used to mean I was up at 2am and 5am to nurse. Then by 7am when Daddy left for work, I would lay in bed and cuddle with my newborn - just watching her coo and wriggle around. There was no schedule and nothing to pull us out of bed at a certain time. Mornings included cute little infant yawns and stretches. A quiet house. A slow pace.

Fast forward seven years and mornings look a little different. It includes alarms, and finding clean clothes to wear, and complaints that I'm not very gentle when I brush tangles out of hair. It's "Mom where's my _____?!" and hoping there's enough deli turkey left in the fridge to make a sandwich for the lunchbox. It's eggo waffles with yogurt on top and "don't forget the sprinkles!". It's making sure spelling homework was put back in the backpack yesterday afternoon. It's chatting about our plans today and who needs to be where. We read our devotional and say our prayers. Get one child on the bus and one child in the car.  It's commitments and routines and multi-tasking.

Both seasons are beautiful, each in their own way. I was recently reflecting on how I used to dream about the day when my infant was old enough to say words and verbally converse with me. Then I dreamed about the day my toddler was old enough to sleep in later than 6:30am. Then I dreamed about the day my preschooler would learn her ABC's and write her name. And now... I am dreaming of when my first grader will discover her passions and get excited about what she has to offer the world.

Our mornings will continue to change and evolve as my children do. But I'll be a constant. I'll be there when they walk downstairs first thing in the morning, attempting to offer my best. I will make them breakfast and remind them about various important things and pray over them silently as they walk out the door.  I won't be perfect, but I'll be there. There are a thousand tiny moments that happen in those precious morning hours before we leave the house. Memories are made. Tones are set.

Mornings with my babies are sacred.

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