portraits of 8 AM

Sometimes it is 8:00 am and Nugget is sleeping. I quietly roll out of bed, tiptoe down the stairs, and sneak a bowl of mini wheats. And then, with cereal in hand, I indulge in some blog reading. The greatest part about this new house-like my absolutely favorite part ever-is my craft room. It's like my sanctuary, a room just for me, well me and my pet cactus. At 8:00 am the sun shines glorious rays of warmth, full throttle through my south-facing window. It is the warmest room at 8:00 am. All is calm at 8:00 am.
But then I feel the pull of laundry
and the rustling of an anxious dog
my fingers drift from scrolling through blogs to my inbox of emails and their answering
upstairs my chubby sidekick starts to rustle and fuss awake
and then it is after 8:00 am
and it is time to begin everything else that happens after 8.

I sure do feel lucky that my moments alone are at 8 am and not yet 5 am. I feel grateful for my home, my freedom, my faith.
But more than anything I am grateful for my family. My husband. And that little Nugget who needs me constantly (but sometimes not at 8 am).

Tweet

Pin It