The Pirate is watching a cartoon.
I'm in a bathrobe. I have yet to do one productive thing this morning.
Pirate woke us up three times last night, and I'm tired.
Not to mention that at some point in the middle of the night I had to get up and eat something. When I was pregnant with Pirate I could eat a couple crackers and go right back to sleep. With this baby, I eat those crackers and then I'm just more hungry. There have been many, many nights that I'm sitting in this exact spot at 3AM with a bowl of cereal or a plate of left-overs.
At some o'dark thirty point this morning, after a bowl of cereal, I sat in the lazy chair and let my thoughts turn to the baby growing inside me. I call this babe a her, but I'm starting to think it's probably a boy, but either way. I hadn't felt any movement since church on Sunday. So I sat there in the quiet dark, praying for a kick. Then it came. Again and again. And, with a heart full of thanks, I dozed off still sitting in the chair.
Then, too soon, a light after light came on, and a sweet little face was in mine. Cold hands on my cheeks. "Mom! It's time to wake up!" He tugged the blanket off me. "It's time to wake up." I check the clock. 8:30. Hubs had already made himself and the Pirate breakfast. He tells me about giving the Pirate some sausage -a meat that hasn't been in this house for years. "Tiny brown hotdogs?" he questioned. He tentatively took a bite, and then inhaled the rest. "Mmm! Delicious!" he exclaimed.
Admittedly, these were a favorite of mine once upon a time. In the time before I gave up most all meat.
Sausage makes me think of mornings with my dad. Just me and him, before anybody else got up. It especially brings back memories of mornings at the cabin. I'd quietly crawl out of my sleeping bag. Tug on my shoes. Pull on a sweatshirt. Walk the trail down to the fire. Grandpa would be at the grill and my dad nearby. They were always the first two up. And I always seemed to be the third. (Though, now, I'm sure my grandma was up as well, doing her part of breakfast prep in the kitchen.) Yes, sausage, campfire smoke and early mountain mornings with my dad are forever linked in my brain. Those were some good days.
These are some good days too. Lazy, long mornings -just the Pirate and me- when we can routinely hang out in pajamas until -now 10:00AM- without any real need to be anywhere or do anything. Yup. These are good days.