The morning is so quiet, so still.
I lay in bed an extra five minutes and wonder how the house grew so cold overnight, but finally grasp the courage to toss back the covers and face the day.
When I was a teenager and in college and newly married, I never appreciated the morning. Never appreciated the possibilities of those still moments in the world, when the sun peeks over the clouds and there is nothing but me and my coffee. Those moments when I sit with my planner in low light and glance at the clock, wondering when the little boy will stir but thankful for a few moments of peace to begin the week. A school bus passes by and I shush the dog’s growl because Tuck, it’s a school bus and we see them five times a week. Even though it’s March of the mildest winter I can remember, there were whispers that flurries might fall this morning and it is cold and grey enough for that to happen today. My toast is ready and my planner is still bare but my coffee mug is half-full as I sit, cross-legged and slippered.
It’s Monday and I am not sure how to plan the week.
Do other mommas feel this and face this? Wondering if I should take a quiet day with my boy, only billing hours while he naps or if I should call the nanny and bring her in so I can bill, bill, bill? Listing the days to-do’s in my mind in and this stillness in the morning, knowing it is all a ticking bomb to toy trucks and train tracks and Curious George?
I feel this are stolen, precious moments of my life where it’s me and my journal and I’m not a momma or a wife, I’m just Beth Anne.