Most mornings I get up and enjoy a few minutes of quiet time with God's word and a cup of creamer with a little coffee. I like routine. Not in everything. But in most things and this is one of those things. I know exactly how many times I can hit snooze, how long my shower should be and how long I have to watch the weather and pray for a school delay before I have to begin my day. I like being the first one awake and I like only having one lamp on as I listen to my family breathing in the other rooms.
So you can imagine my dismay when Chris began a job that requires him to be at work an hour earlier than normal. This means he has to get up earlier because he also has a much longer commute. (Let me remind you that I'm 7 and a half months pregnant.) This means that I have to get up an hour earlier if I still want to enjoy my quiet time. (Again, 7.5 mths preggers. Losing an hour of sleep is like letting my paycheck blow away in the wind.)
The first week was not good. You must know that my husband is the def.i.nition of morning person. He's a turn-on-every-light in the house, bang-around-and-make-as-much-noise-as-humanly-possible kinda guy. He's a sing-songy rise & shine kinda guy. Ugh.
Needless to say, my quiet time has been shot to pieces. But after a blow up last Wednesday that resulted in a craptastic entire day....I'm learning the importance of that quiet time. I need that time in the morning. Why not the evening you might ask? Cause teaching 5th graders all day and coming home to dinner and housecleaning and kindergarten homework and quality time with the kids and hubs....my brain is pretty much mush. So that leaves the mornings. Wish me luck.
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