Time ... or Serenity ... One of Those

I'm trying doggedly to catch up on my Crazy Hip Blogger Write Out Loud Wednesday posts, late though I am.  I have two left:  Serenity and Time.  Admittedly, neither of these topics is really up my alley. 

I mean ... serene?  What do I know from Serene?  If I capitalize it like that, I think maybe I can write a story about someone named Serene or Serenity, but that's about it.  If you think I have any chance of understanding or writing anything meaningful about Serenity, you need to read back a little bit in this blog and catch up.  I just have two people to introduce on the subject of serenity -- my son, Toddler, and my archnemesis, Entropy.  At this point in my life, I have the sneaking suspicion I might confuse serenity with boredom, but I doubt I'll ever know.  My life has a high dose of adrenaline running more often than not: 

"Don't touch that!" 

"Are those real tears or are you faking?"

"What just went *CRASH*?"

"Don't you go NEAR that road!"

And ... that's about all I have to say about Serenity.

On the other hand, I have a lot to say about Time.  The only problem is all I want to talk about is mornings, and I fear I have done that and done that and done that unto death.

Still, no one is listening enough to actually do anything about it.  I am firmly convinced that mornings are an ill-conceived idea, and I cannot figure out why we all tolerate it.  The second worst hour of Time ever invented is the one between 6 and 7 AM.  The worst hour is the one immediately preceding it, commencing at 5 AM.  The earlier ones aren't so bad because there is still time to return to sleep most nights, and in many states bars are still open, so those hours aren't irredeemable.  I do not dispute, however, that they can be difficult when, say, you wake up in one of them to try to catch a pre-dawn flight to someplace you want to be at when the sun rises.  (Disney World comes to mind.  If you catch an early enough flight from Dulles, you can still be at Disney World shortly after the gates open, provided that you go straight there from the airport.  I cannot think of any other place worth getting up that early to see, though.)

I've watched Toddler yawn his way through enough breakfasts, admitting, "I'm tired!" to think that there is something altogether silly going on in this world.  Why is he up if he's tired?  I'll give you a hint.  It's either one end of his digestive track or its the other, and for both of them he claims he needs our help.  I'll give you that "potty" requires parental supervision, but why does breakfast?  He and 2/3 of the cats are hungry, while the rest of us (DH, me, and 1/3 of the cats) would rather stay in bed.  We should be able to find a way that Toddler and 2/3 of the cats can get themselves fed without our help.

Here is our plan.  We will leave out a box of cereal on the table for the three of them, along with a bowl, and some sippy cups of milk in a tub of ice in the middle of the kitchen floor.  I figure Toddler can pour the cereal and the milk into the bowl, and whatever he spills, the cats can have.

Doesn't this solve everyone's problems?  I think it would be an excellent use of some of the worst time available to us.  Those that want to be up are up, and those of us that don't want to be up aren't.  Of course, once I actually do get up, and I need to wipe up the floor on my hands and knees, I might have some other ideas, but let's just go with this one for now.  It sounds really good to me every single morning, and the way I figure it, I have to clean the floor several times a week already. 

Anyway, it has recently come to my attention that not everyone views the morning with the same kind of fogginess and reluctance that I do.  Some people can tolerate mornings because they have to, and that is that.  I can understand these people, and on my very best days, I can reproduce this approach, provided I have the first hour completely to myself with no conversation.  I managed it rather well when I was practicing law, because no one spoke to me from the time I hit the shower until I actually walked in the door at work. Nowadays, when the first thing that happens is a Toddler with his nose in my face saying, "Oh, good morning, Mommy!" I am finding the path through mornings much more difficult.  Somehow, even the soothing warmth of the shower has lost its healing power when the curtain is ripped aside and a piping falsetto enters with the chill saying, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING, MOMMY?  MOMMY TAKING SHOWER!"

On the other hand, I have heard that there are people who actually voluntarily get up early, even when they don't have to, and they actually enjoy it.  I have no explanation for these people, as they are clearly out of their ever loving minds.  That is all.

While we are investigating the intricacies of Time through the lens of Mornings, I must confess one thing.  I do like how long the days are when I am dragged out of bed early in the morning.  I do like the quiet of the early mornings with a nice cup of coffee and a cool morning breeze on a warm day ... until the peace is shattered by the shrieking sound of cartoons or the cacophony of a small child thundering toward my leg yelling, "GOTCHA!"  Those moments take more coffee than I usually have time to drink.

Time-- it would be so much more pleasant without those early morning hours.