The early bird . . .

I'm writing this sitting on the couch in my pajamas, savoring the peace of a late-summer morning that's starting to smell faintly of fall. I am a morning person. I love getting up before everyone else and enjoying the quiet of the house. As a kid, I used to get up and fix my parents breakfast on the weekend. I would tiptoe around quietly so as not to wake anyone else up. I knew how to silently open every squeaky door and which floorboards might give my presence away.

I learned quickly that prolonged independence on these mornings depended heavily on making a pot of coffee first thing, just like my mom did, and taking a steaming cup to each of my parents while they were still sleeping. Then I was free to proceed without interruption for the next hour or so. Even as a young kid, I knew parents appreciated sleeping in, since my dad would take me out to breakfast some Saturdays so my mom could get a little extra sleep. So if I wanted to feel like I ran the whole house for a little while, this was the way to do it. I didn't make anything too fancy - biscuit dough cinnamon rolls were about as complicated as it got. Once it was ready, I would concede my silent morning and call everyone to the table, and the weekend would officially be underway.

I still love being up before anyone else. I'm at my best in the morning - well, after a cup of coffee, that is. What can I say? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I can get some writing done, re-read emails that didn't make sense on my phone, enjoy a little extra snuggle time with Erin (an early bird in training), and actually eat breakfast. I still tiptoe around the things that might wake Dan up. For instance, the door to our bathroom from the shower squeaks. I sneak around to the hall. As soon as I hear Erin's first cries, I slide out of bed and into the girls' room before the baby monitor wakes him. I don't turn on the TV, because I don't want him to know I'm up (although, I guess, if I'm not in bed where else would I be?!) I laugh silently at the little kid in me, sliding the bedroom door shut by pressing on the hinge edge so as to avoid the clatter of the doorknob. It's worth succumbing to wakefulness the first time I open my eyes, knowing that a delicious hour or so of peaceful morning awaits.

There's something rewarding about waking up early. I feel like I accomplished something, even if the only other thing I check off on my to-do list is "breathe." It doesn't matter how little sleep I get the night before; I will always be a morning person.

Are you a morning person? What's your favorite thing about waking up early?