Size 5 in the L4

Mornings. People either love them or hate them.  I have yet to meet someone who is neutral on the subject.  I am an early riser thanks to growing up on a farm with a morning person Mamma who was up feeding the chickens before the sun peaked over the trees.  Every morning my Facebook feed is full of "good Mornings" and "uuuughhh, it's too earlys".   It's a very polarizing subject matter.

I need my morning hour.  The 6-7am hour before anyone else in my house gets up. I have an alarm set on my phone for 7 in case I over sleep, but that only happens a handful of times and usually involves me being sick. I relish in the quiet and serenity.  The kitchen is clean.  The toys are all nestled in their bright green canvas boxes waiting for their turn to play.  Book bag and sneakers are lined up just so  against the wall, neat and tidy.  My coffee is still hot and the smell fills my head with calm thoughts.  It's the only time my house full of kids and commotion is Zen like.  I take the time to do my devotional. Spend time with the Lord. Read emails. Answer emails. Check Facebook. Watch the news. Check on the weather. Pray. These things are the ground work for my day.  The Must Do's. I am a creature of habit.  Plain, simple.

This very morning I was jarred awake by pain and pressure. A very uncomfortable feeling.  It was quite disturbing given I am in love with my bed and pillow in an almost inappropriate way.  (My love for my bed is a whole other blog.)  I am laying there in my happy place trying to figure out what is happening in the pre-wake up fog.   Then it comes into focus and hits me.  Literally hits me. A foot has found it's way into my spine.  A size 5 foot belonging to a 4 year old boy. These toes I fell in love with the moment he was born.  I kissed, I played piggie goes to market with.  I helped fit for his first pair of shoes.  These same toes were betraying me.  Nestling themselves into my L4 with Midevil Chinese Torture precision.  This boy who loves me more than the sun and moon is slowly killing me in his sleep.  Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! The more I move away to get relief the closer he comes. Feeling the warmth drift away from him he counters with harder jabs and a lead arm throw which lands on my forehead. *mental note: check mirror for black eye*

I had no choice but to get the heck out of there before I was beaten beyond recognition.  The last thing I need is some sweet soul in the church lobby wondering if I have a siltation I need to get away from at home.  My early morning Zen hour began early today.  And took longer to come to fruition.  I am here now.  Victorious against the tsunami of kid love that invaded my bed as I slept.  I hold no ill will against the lover.  He is my world and I'd take a love beating from him any day over the alternative.

The aggressor has just joined me in the office.  His sleepy cadence wobbling through the room.  Telling me he does not need to use the bathroom and then running to get there in time.  His hair is disheveled.  Breath smell quite awful.  Pajamas now tucked into his underwear.  A sight to behold.  But his eyes have me smitten.  He is the epitome of enthusiasm and emotion.  He's the reason (he and the other little sweet peas) I get up everyday and take this hour to prep myself for the day ahead.  The reason I want to always be on my A-Game.  He matters and therefore I matter.  And that's my real moment of Zen...