It's a Beautiful Morning

In the mornings on school days, I love to wake my children by climbing into their beds and snuggling with them. Because they both go to school at different times, I can do this with both of them equally. I wake Madison first. I kiss her soft cheeks, and she puts her arms around my neck, and we lie there quietly talking.

I awaken Darcy next. I slip under her covers and kiss her little cheeks that smell of sleep, and she lets me while she sucks on her thumb. Eventually, she will roll over as if just awakening, see that it is me in bed with her, and she will throw her arms around me and squeeze.

It is one of the highlights of parenting and a fantastic way to start my day. I am determined to continue it as long as I can before they become too old for their mother to climb into bed with them.

I don't remember much about how my parents awakened me until I was a teenager. Then my father would usually do the honors as he was always up first.

My father was a morning person. He would awaken and roll right out of bed whistling. He started his day with a shower and a shave, and he whistled and sang the entire time he was doing it. I found it quite annoying as I was not a morning person. When my father would enter my room to wake me, he would flip on my light and sing loudly, "Wake up sunshine! Oh, what a beautiful morning...."

Now, as many of you know, I have a thing about lights, and this would irritate me to no end. I would snarl and yell, climb out of bed, and turn the light back off. Then, proving how I was the damn boss, I would jump back into bed. 

It never fazed my father. He would laugh, disappear, wait a minute, and then flip the light back on.

Finally, one day he asked me how I wanted him to wake me in the morning. I said softly and gently with minimal noise. 

Me: "Kiss me and quietly say, 'Good Morning, Cara, it is time to wake up."

The next day I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder and a kiss on my cheek.

Him: "Cara, it's time to wake up."

Me: "See, Dad, that is much better."

I stretched and yawned and felt at peace. My father smiled, whispered it was 7:30 AM, turned and tiptoed toward the door. When he got to the threshold, he flipped on my light and sang, "It's a beautiful morning!"

I will admit that I laughed.

Now that story is a favorite of my daughters. I like to tell it when they whimper while I snuggle with them. It is my way of saying I understand their feelings and that I'm gently easing them into the day.

Of course, that is not to say that someday I won't flip on their lights and sing to them. I am my father's daughter, after all.