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Slipping Away

May 25, 2017

sunrise in p-vegasI never really gave much thought to a “morning routine.”  In fact, I didn’t realize the correlation between Metamucil, old people and morning routine until after 50.  But this isn’t about poop irregularity.  This is about realizing too late how days slip into years. 

The youthful me used to jump out of bed with a vengeance, typically beating the alarm. Late nights didn’t matter.  I could survive for days on two or three hours of sleep each night. Mornings were well-choreographed clockwork: pee, brush teeth, grab coffee, shower, get dressed, wake up kids, more coffee, toss out food scrapes for the kids, read paper standing at kitchen table, more coffee, bark at kids to get dressed, re-dress one kid (always that one kid), everybody pee, grab school bags, empty remaining coffee in travel mug, wait with kids for bus, head to work all before 7am.  Saturdays and Sundays had similar schedules with the exception of school bags and the bus.  Get up, get fed, get moving.

Revelation: I did this shit to my kids for almost half my life and all of theirs.

I don’t have a schedule to keep anymore.  Coffee is still happening every morning, but I traded the newspaper in for reading blogs.  I stayed in pajamas most of yesterday while I sealed a bunch of artwork and posted several items online.  Sometimes I wake up by 5am, sometimes I wake up at 8am.  This morning reminded me I should have spent more time relaxing with my kids when they were young, especially on the weekends.  I really didn’t take time to enjoy days that could have been lazy.

Last night I kept the oldest grandson.  Today is teacher in-service day and he was coming over anyway.  We partied on Ritz crackers and binge watched Netflix cartoons until 10pm. I offered him coffee so he could stay up later.  (we drink coffee after school sometimes. His is mostly milk and sugar.)  With a straight face, he sincerely responded with “I can’t do that, gramma.  I’m a kid. Kids go to bed”

I told him “SO? You don’t have to tonight.  You can sleep in tomorrow.”  He was out within minutes after that.  I stayed up until 2ish and painted a little.  I guess his mother is truly a chip off the old block.  I opened my eyes to a fully dressed seven year old in matching clothes.  He had the morning cartoons on, and was waiting for the day to start. All before 7am.

I’m going to have to talk to that one child about loosening up a bit.  Before she knows it, these babies will be grown and she will wonder where all her mornings went.

Have a lazy day occasionally.  That big old world outside can wait on you while you do something you can talk about for years to come.  “Remember that day . . . ”


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