For some reason this morning I could not sleep past 7:15. I woke up and was awake. I tried snuggling with my little boy, which usually puts me or my husband out no matter how insomniatic we are feeling, but it did me no good. It actually worked out quite well, because it reminded me of why I do like to get up so early. Your day is so much longer and more open to possibilities when you get up earlier than, oh say, 10:30.
I did get out of bed and wrote for a while. Then I went downstairs and decided to dust off (literally) the recumbent bike. I've been thinking I needed to get back on it for a while now and finally did. I usually don't divulge my plans for exercising or trying to lose weight until at least two weeks have passed and I'm reasonably sure I'll keep it up. But in this case I thought it was too funny that I did have to take a duster to the thing. It was great to get back on it. Then I showered, finished a book, and dressed all before my son wanted his breakfast!
I was elated to have accomplished so much and so started teasing my husband to get out of bed. I of course did this in the way many parents do, I think: through my son. He can't speak yet, at least not in a language understood by the world in general, so my husband and I speak for him.
"What's that Bobby? Daddy should get out of bed? I think so too!"
Then, in a high pitched pseudo-baby voice, "Yeah, he really needs to see how much fun waking up is!"
After continuing like this for a few minutes I thought Bobby was helping me out by leaning towards his dad and doing his grunt communication, but instead he pooped out of his diaper and onto my pants. That put a damper on my morning real fast (they're very comfortable pants and I was looking forward to relaxing in them all morning) but while my husband showered Bobby fell asleep again and we had a nice nap together. My husband did a load of laundry that included those pants while Bobby and I slept and so by lunchtime all was right with the world. And I have plans to be up early again tomorrow!