No, we can’t, but, boy, do I wish we could! Just think of all we would get done!
I suppose it’s not very sympathetic of me to tease non-morning people, since they are already cranky, tired, and in a bad mood, and I doubt this will improve that trio, but I can’t help myself. I’m an unapologetic morning person born to two morning people.
When I was a little girl, my mom used to wake me up by coming in and singing songs to me. They were sweet little cheery songs, uplifting, and often humorous. I would snap awake (something I still do) and help her finish the song. My dad was usually in the middle of his devotions and half way through his coffee by the time I made it to the breakfast table. He would tell me how great I looked and give me a big smile. He never forgot to give me a big hug and kiss before he left for work, usually whistling all the way out the door.
It can be tough to be an avid morning person, especially one who can survive on only a little sleep. I was the only kid who had an early breakfast with my friends’ parents after a sleepover. All the other little girls would still be asleep, sprawled out on the basement floor, encased in Rainbow Bright sleeping bags, and I would be up and at ‘em at 6:00 a.m. sharp. I can’t tell you how many mothers looked at me like a little alien when I emerged from the basement in search of toast and peanut butter first thing in the morning.
In college, I sprung out of my bed at the first peal of my alarm. I’d greet my roommate with a cheery hello and jump in the shower. I’d sing while I put my make-up on and fixed my hair. Then I’d head down for a good breakfast in the school cafeteria, and usually be one of the first five people in my morning class.
I tried to persuade my succession of three roommates and one boyfriend (now my husband) to go to breakfast with me, and all I ever received was a mumbled suggestion of what they thought I should go do. It usually wasn’t very nice.
In spite of my early morning cheeriness, my roommates still managed to love me, and we are all very dear friends. However, they have all admitted to me that my morning antics drove them half mad.
My husband, on the other hand, is very much not a morning person. He struggles to the surface after many repetitions of his bleating alarm. Then, he rolls around in the bed for a while, wrapping himself in a cocoon of covers, and pulls the pillow over his head. Eventually he stabilizes to a sitting position and looks around the room through bleary eyes. He drags himself out of bed, cranky, and goes through the getting ready process in a way that feels like a slow moving ride at Disneyworld.
His mom once told me the only way she could get him out of bed in the morning when he was a teenager was to poor frozen marbles under the covers!
Now, he’s finally getting his chance. He’s on third shift now at his new job, and he loves it. He says he finally feels awake at work (not a fact I’d share with his previous first shift employers), and he is a lot less stressed. I’m happy for him. And I’m even happier for me. Finally, I can sing the complete Oklahoma theme in the morning and not worry about annoying anyone.
Oh, what a beautiful morning!
Oh, what a beautiful day!
I’ve got a beautiful feelin’!
Everything’s going my way!
Oh, what a beautiful day!
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