I’m not a morning person; in fact, I’m hardly an afternoon person. Call me nocturnal and accept when I say I hate to hear an alarm clock go off. My body retreats into the fetal position while my mind registers the interruption and then builds a mental fence around it. So how do I arise and meet any day’s commitments?
I’ve tried various approaches over the years.
At high school graduation, I received a radio alarm clock which I programmed to bring music into my bedroom about half an hour before I really wanted to rise. At first this worked. I listened to music and slowly wakened. But after the novelty wore off, the singers of the day became intruders. I began to hit the off button before they began to croon.
In college, the problem was avoided when I learned to sign up for late morning classes. In early marriage, I dutifully rose and fixed my new husband his breakfast but then went back to bed when he left for work. It was only with the advent of children that I was forced to rise, if not shine.
Then came the snooze button, and I resorted to tactics similar to the first radio alarm in my life. I set the clock early, heard it buzz, hit the snooze, and returned to dreamland for the allotted five minutes. Heard it buzz again, hit the snooze, and returned to dreamland. However, there was no lasting effect. I still abhorred daylight.
Time passed. Today, Earl is my alarm. He wakens feeling fit and alert, ready to go. This is often at ungodly hours, but he finally understands his mate doesn’t share this behavior. So we agree the night before at what time he will re-tiptoe into our bedroom with some beverage for me, gently turn on the light, and hope that I don’t grumble. He always has a saying of the day too. I still don’t believe in getting out of bed early, especially if the sun isn’t up yet, but so far it’s the best routine. There’s no buzzing, dinging, music, or children crying. Only Earl and a morning hug.
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