Birds chirp, dog whines, alarm beeps, and the coffee gurgles. 5:30 a.m. says hello.
The dog stops whining because my beautiful husband walks him. The coffee is gurgling and ready because that wonderful man made coffee before they left. He knows that if he leaves it to me, I'll likely make another accidental pot of plain hot water. I don't have to get up this early, but he does. He works hard for us and I've found I work better if I have this morning time as well.
Husband leaves, I read, dog falls back to sleep at my feet.
I read in Nehemiah and find parallels in temple building and homemaking. I smell my coffee more than I drink it. I'm always behind somehow and I cram in 3 extra chapters to try to catch up. Then I feel bad for cramming God, so I slow back down.
Laundry thumps, monitor glows, and fingers click-clack on the keyboard. 6:30 a.m. is ready for work.
I'm certain it's only been five minutes of writing, but suddenly kids are dragging in for snuggles and sour morning kisses. Some fall back asleep on the couch. Some bounce with energy. Some need Mama to sing obnoxiously before they get out of bed.
Eggs sizzle, girls long for something other than eggs, boys shower, and I reluctantly close the uncluttered world within my laptop. 7:30 a.m. says party time.
We work through memory work while girls are still slowly choking down eggs. They will take another half hour, seeming to prefer complaining about how they taste cold. We get sidetracked on a line in a poem and the 15 minute session turns into an hour of discussion with my fascinating children. Again.
Books open, dishes soak, girls giggle, boys argue, phone rings. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
And suddenly Daddy is home. Children scramble over furniture and each other in order to be the first to tag daddy when he comes in the door. I get my kiss.
School finished? Er...um...
Rooms clean? Er...um...
What's for dinner? Er...um...
We invent something that begins with frozen ground beef, attempt to wrap up chores and lessons, and snuggle down for a quiet evening (this evening) of family. It's worth it, every bit of it. And then we sleep and prepare for the rhythm of tomorrow.
The dog stops whining because my beautiful husband walks him. The coffee is gurgling and ready because that wonderful man made coffee before they left. He knows that if he leaves it to me, I'll likely make another accidental pot of plain hot water. I don't have to get up this early, but he does. He works hard for us and I've found I work better if I have this morning time as well.
Husband leaves, I read, dog falls back to sleep at my feet.
I read in Nehemiah and find parallels in temple building and homemaking. I smell my coffee more than I drink it. I'm always behind somehow and I cram in 3 extra chapters to try to catch up. Then I feel bad for cramming God, so I slow back down.
Laundry thumps, monitor glows, and fingers click-clack on the keyboard. 6:30 a.m. is ready for work.
I'm certain it's only been five minutes of writing, but suddenly kids are dragging in for snuggles and sour morning kisses. Some fall back asleep on the couch. Some bounce with energy. Some need Mama to sing obnoxiously before they get out of bed.
Eggs sizzle, girls long for something other than eggs, boys shower, and I reluctantly close the uncluttered world within my laptop. 7:30 a.m. says party time.
We work through memory work while girls are still slowly choking down eggs. They will take another half hour, seeming to prefer complaining about how they taste cold. We get sidetracked on a line in a poem and the 15 minute session turns into an hour of discussion with my fascinating children. Again.
Books open, dishes soak, girls giggle, boys argue, phone rings. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
And suddenly Daddy is home. Children scramble over furniture and each other in order to be the first to tag daddy when he comes in the door. I get my kiss.
School finished? Er...um...
Rooms clean? Er...um...
What's for dinner? Er...um...
We invent something that begins with frozen ground beef, attempt to wrap up chores and lessons, and snuggle down for a quiet evening (this evening) of family. It's worth it, every bit of it. And then we sleep and prepare for the rhythm of tomorrow.
1 comment:
If it works, it's good. All that other stuff will still be there. Your kids won't be little forever.
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