Confessions of a Night Owl

I am not really a night owl, even though I claim the label. I have never been one to chase the 2am energy burst. Even in my high-flying college days, I was usually home before midnight and asleep before 1am. Although I may not be the classic night owl burning the midnight oils, one thing I definitely am not is a morning person.

Mornings come hard. It's difficult to focus. My brain feels like it is sitting in a thick fog. My eyes struggle to make sense of the words in the morning Magnificat reading. I don't bound out of bed with energy, but drag myself groggily to consciousness trying to hold the day's tasks in my mind.

When I was working full time and commuting, I never adjusted to the schedule. I could push my sleep cycle in the direction of earlier, but sunrise proved to be the hard stop on my ability to force the issue. Even while I could coax an earlier wake-up time, it only took a handful of schedule-less days to destroy the rhythm as my body slid back into its desired, later, schedule.

After I quit my job and started homeschooling the children, there was no pressing reason for me to get out of bed early in the morning so I didn't. I didn't sleep until noon, but sleeping until 8am was not unheard of. Or maybe 830. Probably not later than 9. I jest. A little. During the school year, I set my alarm for 730 with varying success. Ella complicated matters.

However, life has changed. Ever since Grace started high school two weeks ago, I have felt compelled to get up and greet her before she leaves for school in the morning. The bus runs at 630am now so I need to be out of bed by 620 in order to see her. The truth is there is nothing forcing me to do this. Dave gets up as early as he ever did, makes sure she is awake in the morning, assists in her final preparations, and sees her out the door. He is quite capable and doesn't need my help. I could sleep longer, but I want to get up. It feels wrong to continue to snooze while your child trudges off to an early morning bus.

I cannot say I am bursting with energy. I am not. I wake up and stumble to the living room. I see Grace off and then sit, drinking coffee, while praying Morning Prayer and checking in on the world. The funny thing is that even though I am as groggy as I ever was upon waking, the morning fog lifts about two hours after I wake up. This is true whether I am waking at 615 or 815. The clock strikes 8am. I have already finished my morning mental routine, and I am ready to physically get ready for the day. Oddly, this earlier start time means I am prepared for the rest of the day at an earlier time too. Mind-bending, I know.

As I work through the rest of the morning, I keep glancing at the clock, amazed at how early it is, astounded at where I am in my chore list. The day seems to stretch on beyond me and instead of having already slipped away. I am, unbelievably, finishing my daily chores relatively stress-free at a normal pace instead of cramming tasks into stolen bits of time. I still do not have copious amounts of free time, but my biggest problem has been decision paralysis in determining what to do next instead defeated resignation about what didn't get done. This is amazing.

I mean, I am not saying I am now a morning person. I'm not. I am never going to be. But I will say putting the day into motion around sunrise hasn't been half bad. I didn't quite expect that.