During my mom's visit, I have been reminded of one very crucial "flaw" in my personality.
I am not a morning person. Not even close. Seriously. Don't talk to me before my first cup of coffee or bad things could happen to both of us. Do I look like I'm kidding? (I realize you can't see my face or hear my tone of voice, but I need you to use a little imagination here.)
And if you really want to be my friend, don't talk to me before 9am regardless coffee intake levels.
Lest you think this is just the plain laziness of a new stay-at-home mom who enjoys pajama time a little too much, I can honestly say that these "rules of morning engagement" were enforced long before my days as a mom or as a stay-at-homer.
When I worked full time at the insurance agency, I often arrived to the office a few minutes early to prepare my own little pot of "motor oil" (as my boss affectionately called my abnormally strong coffee) so that I could at least have a few sips in the quiet of the morning before my other coworkers arrived. Since my boss often pointed out and frequently mocked my morning "cheerfulness" (did I mention that he was a morning person?), I often would hide in my office until AT LEAST 10am, doing mundane work that required little or no interaction with people. If at all possible, I asked our receptionist to take messages for me while I checked my inbox, caught up on yesterday's memos, made my lists for the day, and basically did whatever I could to avoid an actual conversation. Many mornings, I even avoided faxing or making copies, which would require me to pass (and potentially converse with) a minimum of three people on my way to the copy room.
It's not that my fellow employees were that unbearable. On the contrary, I really enjoyed my time in that office, and even today, if I had to go back to work, there's no place I'd rather be!
It's just those darn mornings!
I really wish I were a morning person. Really, I do. There is something almost magical about those twilight hours when everything still feels damp and hazy from the night, when the birds are just starting to awaken, when the first few lights of the city start to glow against the purple gray sky. I know those things exist because, for those first few days in Korea, my jet lag manifested by waking me up at 6am full of energy and life. I loved getting up before the rest of my family, sitting at the table with Jesus and having a quiet not-so-desperate cup of coffee. I enjoyed being already dressed, fed, and full of energy when the rest of my family stumbled out of bed.
But alas! Jet lag only lasted a few days, and then the old me returned - the one that groans as she gets out of bed and desperately makes her way to the coffee pot glaring at anyone who dares to make a noise above a whisper and daring the sun to be too bright through the kitchen window.
Luckily, neither my hubby nor my daughter are really morning people. So our house, for the most part, is relatively quiet (read: non communicative) before 9 or 10am.
But then my mother came.
I mentioned in my last post that she is up each morning before the sun, studying the Korean alphabet. Then she gets out of bed when Chloe wakes up (hallelujah!) and prepares breakfast for the family.
Now this is all FABULOUS as far as I am concerned, except for one little thing: by the time I am tasting my first sip of wake-up juice, she has already been up, with coffee coursing through her veins, for three hours.
Can you imagine?
I have no tidy summary for this post, except to say this: My mother and I are a lot alike in many, many ways. But in this one characteristic, it's like we're not even related.
But you know what? It works. I have been AMAZED at the amount of housework/shopping/walking/entertaining that has been done this week. About the time she starts to lose her morning perkiness, I start to pick up steam. So while I rest and check blogs in the morning, she cleans house and takes care of Chloe. Then while she takes an afternoon break, I'm bustin' a move on some dust bunnies and making plans for dinner.
Anyways. Not sure what this post is supposed to say. Just felt like something to write about. Hm.