My New Favorite Ritual
I'm not a morning person. According to my mother I was . . . when I was 3 years old. That hardly counts. When I was in college, I don't remember. My friends could possibly tell you, but maybe they weren't morning people either, so none of us were interacting? None of us know if we were morning people because all of us kept silent. After college, I lived on my own until I lived with Doug, after we were married.
That was a shock to the old system- for both of us. Doug is a morning person. He would wake up and want to talk about everything. It was a glorious day. Everything was sunshine and rainbows. I DESPISED him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Why did he HAVE to talk to me?????? Did I look like I cared about that?? Can't he keep his trap shut????? For Pete's Sake!!!! STOP. TALKING.
When the honey moon was over- it was abruptly over. As I was stomping out the door in the morning we were screaming things at each other, that should not be repeated in polite company. I was fine in the afternoons. In the mornings I was a demon. It took us awhile to figure out what the problem was: Me. My need for silence. And no interaction. Once we got that figured out- it was sunshine and rainbows. Filtered sunshine. Subdued rainbows.
I co-taught with a lady during first period for a few semesters. Then we co-taught 4th period. Towards the end of the semester, she looked at me one afternoon and said, "I get it now. For the longest time I thought you didn't like me. Turns out- you're not a morning person." I was mortified. I thought I was behaving myself all those mornings!
Then I had children. I maybe improved? I don't know. Some of my more irrational moments with Andrew happened in the morning, so maybe I didn't.
A few years ago I discovered coffee. I would drink it on the way to school. I think that helped . . . or maybe it didn't. I mean- I thought I was behaving myself for a year, when really I was being a pill. Maybe my perception of my behavior is unreliable.
This past summer though . . . I figured out the magic trick. I get up an hour before the kids and Doug. I sit in the dark, drink my coffee and contemplate . . . nothing. It's a silent time. It's a dark time. It's a non-interaction time. I can come to terms with the day, quietly. I think that has made a HUGE difference. At least- inside my head it has. It is literally, my favorite time of day. Because once the others get up . . . it's time for talking. (and since they all just woke up . . . they're talking to me. A lot, but I've had an hour and a half of silence all to myself. I can handle it.)
That was a shock to the old system- for both of us. Doug is a morning person. He would wake up and want to talk about everything. It was a glorious day. Everything was sunshine and rainbows. I DESPISED him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Why did he HAVE to talk to me?????? Did I look like I cared about that?? Can't he keep his trap shut????? For Pete's Sake!!!! STOP. TALKING.
When the honey moon was over- it was abruptly over. As I was stomping out the door in the morning we were screaming things at each other, that should not be repeated in polite company. I was fine in the afternoons. In the mornings I was a demon. It took us awhile to figure out what the problem was: Me. My need for silence. And no interaction. Once we got that figured out- it was sunshine and rainbows. Filtered sunshine. Subdued rainbows.
I co-taught with a lady during first period for a few semesters. Then we co-taught 4th period. Towards the end of the semester, she looked at me one afternoon and said, "I get it now. For the longest time I thought you didn't like me. Turns out- you're not a morning person." I was mortified. I thought I was behaving myself all those mornings!
Then I had children. I maybe improved? I don't know. Some of my more irrational moments with Andrew happened in the morning, so maybe I didn't.
A few years ago I discovered coffee. I would drink it on the way to school. I think that helped . . . or maybe it didn't. I mean- I thought I was behaving myself for a year, when really I was being a pill. Maybe my perception of my behavior is unreliable.
This past summer though . . . I figured out the magic trick. I get up an hour before the kids and Doug. I sit in the dark, drink my coffee and contemplate . . . nothing. It's a silent time. It's a dark time. It's a non-interaction time. I can come to terms with the day, quietly. I think that has made a HUGE difference. At least- inside my head it has. It is literally, my favorite time of day. Because once the others get up . . . it's time for talking. (and since they all just woke up . . . they're talking to me. A lot, but I've had an hour and a half of silence all to myself. I can handle it.)
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