With a husband that leaves the house before dawn and a baby that thinks 6AM is sleeping in, mornings start insanely early over here. I remember the days when waking up at 7AM was painful, and now I am routinely out of bed at an hour that starts with a 5... I'm certain this qualifies as some kind of torture for a lifelong night owl.
I have spent a lot of time bemoaning my forced early start, but in the last few months, and with Little Smith in school several days a week, I am starting to come around. It's one of the few times during the day when we can be home together and everyone is actually in a good mood. We've settled into a (slightly variable) routine, and rising so early makes our pace feel leisurely, even when we need to be out the door by 8:30AM.
Breakfast is the one meal of the day that we do not eat together, and I break all of my rules about not catering separate dishes to suit different tastes. We eat in shifts, often the kids start with some yogurt or toast with honey and nut butter, then follow with eggs for 'second breakfast'. They always seem to eat best in the morning.
We try to fit in a little project, like painting or baking. We do some reading and listen to music or NPR. When it is finally time to get washed and dressed (that part is never fun), I actually feel as though we've had a pretty full day. I appreciate that I don't have to rush, or feel guilty when the afternoon is devoted to errands or we indulge in a movie.
Don't get me wrong, if our kids suddenly decided to sleep an extra hour or two in the morning, I would gladly follow their lead! But this is my lemonade out of lemons for the winter... finding some special time with two bright eyed little people... even if there are some serious bags under my own tired eyes.