Morning

Mornings. What mysterious variances they are. What things they say to and about each of us when they arrive.

You were up too late.
You didn't sleep well.
You had a nightmare.
You couldn't sleep at all.

You're well-rested.
You slept like a log.
You fell in love again in your dreams.
You overslept.

You popped up ready to go.
You couldn't drag your ass out of bed.

Every morning in our house I experience a sort of looking glass reality. Megan is always up first. She's the responsible morning person. It doesn't matter if she slept well or at all, if she has to get up to get ready for the day she does it. Period.

So I most often wake up to the sound of Megan pleading with Maggie to get up so that she'll be ready for school in time. Maggie cries...and yells...and whines...and refuses..and groans...and begs for more time.

The funny thing, the looking glass thing, is that all of the things Maggie says and does are in my head, too. She and I feel exactly the same way in the morning. Those moments when you see yourself in your kids are always so neat. And so, lately, I've been actually getting up with a wry outlook, even a wry smile, and helping to rouse Maggie because I totally get where she's at. I used to get angry, and frustrated. Then I remembered being on the receiving end of that anger and frustration, and how I felt it was unfair because I wasn't choosing to be so hard to get up. I look at Maggie and I know, it's just how her body works. So it's a long process to get her up, but I totally get it.

And, like always, I learn from my kids how to be a better adult, a better father, and a better husband. I have taken "Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" by U2 as my opus for parenting. I have climbed highest mountain, I have run through the fields, only to be with you; but I still haven't found what I'm looking for.

I have come so far for the chance to parent you, but I'm not good enough yet. I'll keep climbing, keep running.