Good Morning, Sunshine

I am not a morning person.

It really isn't a secret. Most of my family is aware of it. My mom claims I was happy in the mornings when I was younger, but evidently I have become grumpier with age. Don't get me wrong, its not that I hate the mornings. I just cherish my sleep. Due to that, I need a set amount of quiet time before I can converse with the outside world. I have to wake up gradually. But, once I have fully woken up, I am good to go.

My husband, on the other hand, is most definitely a morning person. Every day he wakes up, with a smile on his face, before the sun even rises. This wouldn't be an issue, except for the fact that the boy loves to talk. The concept of "quiet time" is lost on him. He goes on and on and on about the most random topics. And if that wasn't bad enough, he uses every tactic he can to wake me up from my peaceful slumber.

Take the other day, for example. It was a normal Friday morning, except that Jarrod had the day off from work. I, unfortunately, did not have the same luxury. It was around 6 a.m., about 30 minutes before my alarm was scheduled to go off. I had been sound asleep, but was suddenly awoken by the bed's movement. I turned over to realize that Jarrod was rolling back and forth on the bed. I mumbled something angrily at him, and he soon stopped, allowing me to drift back to sleep. About 5 minutes later I heard a familiar voice loudly stating "To listen to your voicemail, please enter your password and then press #." He was listening to his cell phone messages on speakerphone. I mumbled something angrily at him again, and he quickly turned off his phone. Then, not even 5 minutes later, he started talking about his plans for the day. He began listing all the errands and chores he wanted to accomplish. It was when he started asking what he should eat for lunch that I finally turned over and smacked him with a pillow.

The boy has no shame when it comes to waking me up. He has also used tactics such as turning on the lights, stealing the covers and exuding a tremendous amount of body heat while cuddling.

It is torture. He is lucky he is cute, though. Otherwise, I would have killed him.

Seriously, don't mess with me in the mornings.