I've always been a morning person. I remember as a child waking up excited about the possibility held by a brand new day. Every day. Rain, hail or shine. In my teens, there were summer mornings watching the sunrise in the backyard pool as I swam lazy laps before school. In my early twenties my favourite shifts at the hotel were I worked were the breakfast ones, where I got to catch the train over the harbour bridge at five-thirty. When Rodge and I moved in together I used to delight in sitting and discussing everything over breakfast, as we watched the clouds fly past*, before we'd head our separate ways to work.
Then I had children. I am absolutely no longer a morning person. I now drink coffee every morning or I get even grumpier. I actually have to concentrate to not bark at Oscar, when he wakes up, excited, as I used to be, about the brand new day. I miss being a morning person.
So over the next two weeks, I've made a vow to myself to fix this. So that I wake up happy every day, even if I've had a night of broken sleep, full of feeding babies and toddler nightmares. Can't be too hard right?
My new self-imposed rules to become a morning person start with the evenings –perfectly clean kitchen after dinner (nothing makes me grumpier than waking up to mess), no screens after nine (that'll be hard), bed by ten.
Are you a morning person?
*Not the nicest weather, but our view looked like this, naturally, I miss that too!