Yesterday morning, I lay in bed and literally watched time go by. I was snuggled under the blankets staring at my bedside clock watching the second hand tick off time, counting by fives in my head. I watched for five minutes, perfectly still, before I realized how ridiculous it was to still be in bed at that hour (11:30) and to be actually watching time fly. So I got up and made breakfast.
As I was scrambling the eggs, I thought about when I was a child. I used to wake up early as my dad was getting up for work, climb into his recently-vacated spot in bed, and snuggle up to my mom. Mom, despite having five children, was not a morning person. She did not want a squirmy, snuggly child in bed with her at 5 or 6am. She wanted to sleep for those last blessed minutes before she had to get up and tend to said children. I, on the other hand, was happy to be snuggling with Mommy and wanted to chatter and play. My parents bed had a headboard with secret compartments and sliding doors which held books and things. Their clock radio had the flip numbers and a light on an arm that was fun to extend and retract. With so many delights, how was I expected to lay still and go back to sleep. Plus, there was Daddy coming and going from the bathroom, getting ready for work. So much to do and see and talk about. Mom would mumble, "Be still." And I would be still...for about 30 seconds. After many minutes of my squirming and chatting, and her repeated admonitions to "be still" and "just lie there and go back to sleep," Mom would have enough of it and send me packing, back to my bed, downstairs to watch TV, or just anywhere that wasn't in her bed. And I would bound off to bug someone else (usually my sister).
So, where did all that energy go? Why can't I have that kind of enthusiasm to start the day when I really need it? I am definitely not a morning person anymore. Mom had the right idea--stay in bed as long as possible. Still, boundless energy would be great now and then.