Wake-Up Call.

This morning at 5:45, my eyes popped open as I thought I heard Cub over the monitor. I laid in bed, anxiously, straining to hear another coo, or whine, or cry, or whatever it is I thought I heard, and then I heard it again! A coo-ish whine!

It was coming from my husband. Next to me. Asleep.

Nice.

I rolled over and grabbed my cell phone. Ouch. 5:45 is way too early for me. So, naturally, I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to talk myself into going back to sleep. But, to no avail. I eventually gave up at 6:15 and waddled into the kitchen to prepare a pot of coffee. I had a new package of Dunkin' Donuts Dark Roast waiting for me, and the glorious aroma of simply breaking the seal on said package was enough to already lighten my mood. Mmm.

We have a small window over our sink and it faces our side yard and the homes across the street. I've grown to love having a window over my kitchen sink and I think I might make that a requirement of the home we purchase next, way down the road. Whether it's the sunlight slanting in at dusk or the ability to keep an eye on Cub as he toddles around outside, I just love having that large square of natural light to keep me company as I do dishes.

This morning, the natural light was all but pitch black. I grabbed a mug from the cabinet next to our sink and glanced out the window again, this time noticing that our neighbor's lights were also on. I couldn't see inside, of course (and I wasn't trying to), but there was something very comforting about knowing that, for whatever reason, they were awake, too.

And, as is par for the course with Yours Truly, my mind began to wander to all of the early mornings I used to have with Cub. Several of which I remember, simply because I blogged about them. One particular morning, when he was getting over RSV, he woke up at 4:30 in the morning and it took me only a few minutes to realize that he was, in fact, very much awake, and that I might as well give up on trying to put him back to sleep. He was only a few months old then, and I remember carrying him gently across the dark house and starting a pot of coffee, identical to the pot I just brewed this morning. I think I even used the same kind of creamer. I was so tired, SO TIRED, but in that dark morning it was just he and I, and looking back, I adoringly treasure that memory.

And as I sat here in my dark kitchen this morning, all alone, I realized how long it has been since I've gotten up with Cub. I usually wake up first and check on him after 7:30, finding him sitting in bed with Mr. Lion, smiling. It's something I've gotten used to, something that I honestly kind of like, getting showered and having breakfast started before he wakes up. I like getting the house ready before the house wakes up, you know? I think it's in my personality. As I sipped my coffee and checked my e-mail, I felt Naomi stretch and push against my ribs. And I smiled when I realized that those early mornings are about to begin all over again, in just a few months. While my husband is sleeping in our room and Cub is fast asleep in his big boy bed, I will be walking softly across the living room to Naomi's room, getting her out of her crib for whatever reason, and we will have our early morning together.

Of course, I also realize that Cub will quite possibly also wake up at the sound of us, which means I will have an early morning with both of my little chickadees.

And maybe because I am pregnant, or maybe because it's early, or maybe because it's just me and it's the way I am, but the thought of those mornings has made one very imposing tear slide slowly down my cheek. Sometimes it is in the quiet and dark moments of our day, in the unexpected moments, we realize how blessed we are, and that realization is wonderfully overwhelming. And maybe seeing my neighbor's light made me understand that we are never alone in it, and that those moments where we realize we can't fence time become all the more precious to us.

Even, simply, the anticipation of them.

So, as you start your day today, think about those moments. Or, you can think about me, sitting at our kitchen table with bed head and a mug of coffee and now several tears streaming down my cheeks, and you can have a good laugh. It's barely 7:00 and I've already had one good cry today.

But, like those other mornings, I wouldn't trade this morning for anything, either.

Have a lovely day.