Two More Minutes

For most of my life I have been a morning person. In the old days by 7am I would have run around the neighborhood lake, made coffee, read the paper and written in my journal. Most of this changed with the arrival of our sons. But the thought of being productive in the early morning becomes nonexistent during pregnancy. At least for me. At 5.5 months I hold on to every moment I can, buried deep down under the covers I dream about how fast I can whip myself and the boys together before we head down for breakfast. And it never helps when Oliver, my 3 year-old, jumps into bed and wants to snuggle even longer. Which seems to be a daily routine these days.

Five minutes pass and I whisper “Ollie, we gotta get up” but he replies “two more minutes mommy.” I mean, come on. It’s now next to impossible for me to move a muscle. I start visualizing the days when Oliver is a teenager when I will be dragging him out of bed each morning, reminding myself of how much I miss these minutes in the morning with him. How do I know that I will remember the “sunrise moments” with Oliver? These are the kind of memories I need, I want to write down. I soon make a pledge of moving the kids’ journals from our downstairs office to my bedside table. Even though I’m moving at a snail’s pace late at night or early in the morning around our bedroom, my mind is always more open and reflective when I have a chance to just be.

Aside from the day-to-day details of our kids’ lives, it’s the moments that cause me to hold my breath that I want to remember later in life. And even more importantly, our boys might want to know what life was like with mom on random, rainy mornings in March, 2012 before their new sibling arrived. Maybe it will remind them to stay in bed with their kids two more minutes than planned. That’s always the hope.

By the way, if you are in need of a new journal catch the sale going on TODAY at Daily Candy with Graphique Boutique.  Ironically I noticed my dad had picked up the above Koco with Stripes Journal at the Chicago Institute of Art last month and was quite the stylish grandpa carrying his hip, new journal around town last week. Way to keep up the writing movement, dad.

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