I think there is something wrong with the fact that my children wake me up every morning. I want to be one of those moms who is up before the sun rises, coffee brewing, breakfast scents waffling through the kitchen, little birds humming along as I whistle and work–the perfect backdrop to a Disney movie.
But, my life is not a movie. I never beat my kids out of bed. They have made 6AM their wake up time since they were infants and see no need to change the habit.
This morning Maddi tugged on my arm and said, "It's time to get up, Mom, and play Old Maid with me. I'll shovel."
"You'll shuffle." I said.
I sprawled out on the living room floor thinking Maddi would make a very good mom, not only because she can get up early. She had already combed her hair, dressed for the day and helped herself to a glass of orange juice and a toaster pastry.
My thoughts wandered as Maddi and I swapped cards back and forth trying to make pairs and avoid the Old Maid card–the one Maddi warned me about and said, "Maybe we should leave this card out because she makes you lose." I love how kids describe life, how they phrase things with unique dialect.
My sister has a three old and yesterday he told her, "I hurt my little elbow." She pointed to his arm and asked what had happened. He pointed to his ankle bone and said, "No, my little elbow, Mom!" We both laughed and agreed that the ankle bone indeed looks like an elbow and should have such a clever name attached to it.
Then again, Moms themselves have witty ways of phrasing life. My friend Megan defines leaving children with a babysitter and getting out of the house like trying to pull yourself out of molasses.
I wonder if I can steal that one for getting out of bed in the morning.
No matter how we say it or what we call it, all that matters is how we live it.