At the start of my day I am awoken by a small person.
The actual small person that wakes me varies, it might be 3 years old, it might be 6 years old.
Some days I smile, feeling ready to start the day, my brain immediately kicking into gear and the to-do lists beginning to whir.
Some days I inwardly sigh, barely opening my bleary eyes as I shuffle up to make room in our bed for the interloper.
My day begins in one of these ways every single time. It can be anywhere between 5.30 and, if I’m really lucky, 7am.
On most days, the start of my day involves any or all of the following:
– having the 3 year old lie entirely on top of me, like a human blanket
– a shout in my ear, way too loud for me to enjoy at any time of the day, much less when I’m just waking up
– having either an Avenger or Jedi knight crusading on my pillow
– being elbowed in the face
– the kids alternating between being desperate to cuddle one another to being desperate to being the only one to cuddle me
– demands for tickles
– raspberries being blown on my stomach
And then there are the snuggles. Warm, sleepy snuggles.
At the start of my day, unless the elbow came particularly sharp, I feel thankful. Yes, tired more often than not and wondering why I don’t have the kids that ever…EVER…lie in, but thankful.
I have happy and healthy kids and I know that these times are precious. I know that in the big scheme of parenting, these times are fleeting. I know that there will come a day when my children wake up and their first thought is not to get to mummy for a morning cuddle and kiss. When I think about that, it saddens me.
I know that there will come a day when my children wake up and just want to play in their rooms, talk to each other, skulk downstairs alone, or even dare I say it? I’ll wake up first?
These moments will come. I know it. Some days they might feel a long time coming, days with the 5.30 starts and the elbows in the face. But I know, just know, that these are the very best of days, of my days, and I need to cherish them and enjoy them whilst I’m privileged enough to have them.
They don’t stay little for long, they don’t clamour desperately for their mummy for long. When I’m older, I recognise these moments as the ones that I will want back, the ones that will fill me with the warm glow of nostalgia.
So do remind me, when I next face an early start and a Hulk on my nose, that these really are the very best of times.