Morning People- I'm skeptical

Preemptive apology to all morning people. There is nothing wrong with you. It's me. You're smart enough, good enough, and gosh darn it, people like you.

I never thought I had trust issues. I took people at their word, and at face value. I believed that they were who they claimed to be, and I was pleased to meet them. Then I met a morning person. All chipper, and sing-songy with a big bright smile. I had a couple of thoughts bounce through my absolutely-NOT-a-morning-person brain. First, this person is definitely hiding something. It is big, and bad, and if anyone finds out what it is then it will have a negative, life-altering, impact. Second, this person is taking something, and needed a prescription to get it. There is just no possible way that there could be actual, genuine, real adult people who want to laugh, and say words before 8:00 in the morning.

If a morning person is a real species, then fine. I can "accept" that (with a large helping of skepticism). I do, however, have a few things that I would like this creature to know. First, I find you to be overwhelming and uncalled for. Please don't impose your ridiculous happiness on me before I am ready for it. If I walk by and smile without speaking, count your blessings, that is me practicing good manners. And for the love of all that is good, don't ask me questions. I don't want to talk to you. It's not personal. I don't want to talk to anyone. In fact, I find the thoughts in my own head annoying. If you want me to hate you, then by all means, tell me that I look tired. What have you got to lose? Not anything really since you are already at the bottom of my list just for existing. Understand this, I don't just look tired; I am tired. More than that, I am a slight bit angry. Every morning, regular people are angry. The alarm is noise pollution -jolting us out of a peaceful slumber. The shower is offensively wet, and cold to our previously cozy bodies. The toothbrush is violently rushing around our mouths, with an invigorating, minty taste that defies the effort that our bodies are making to stay as close to asleep as possible, while still moving.

I know how this sounds- harsh, and unhappy. The truth is that we are not either of those things. We just don't feel our normal, optimistic, relationship loving selves until a little bit later than you. Don't feel bad for us. Truth be told, when we see you we think that if we were you (no offense) we would want to jump off a cliff. We aren't envious of you. We think that you are lost souls. Hypocrites even. Trying way too hard to fool the world. We are perfectly content to be cordially quiet, doing what life requires of us until we legitimately feel awake, and ready for company. If you can respect us for that, and reign in your enthusiasm for a bit, then we can try to trust that you are more than just pretenders. We will believe that your smile is real, and we will try to appreciate you. You know what would help us go a long way toward appreciating you? Since you are up, and "grabbing the bull by the horns", maybe put on a pot of coffee for the rest of us?


Early morning cheerfulness can be extremely obnoxious.
William Feather

Perspective

I am in a constant effort to pursue a healthy perspective on life. Maybe its because I teach kids who, by their very design, lack perspective. Countless times my students run to me in absolute distress because someone cut them in line, or took their swing. I know that it is a normal stage in their development, and that many of them have the bliss of ignorance as to what an ACTUAL big deal is; and so I try to help them work out their issue and start to develop perspective.

I think it is frustrating though, how many adults I come across who also lack perspective, and with no discernible good reason. They should not be going through "a stage". Haven't we all seen it? Someone angry with a cashier because their $.30 coupon got declined, or setting up a meeting with the principal because their child did not get put into the same 3rd grade class as his or her friends. I feel like a lot of the Facebook posts that I read from people who are enraged about some injustice, are many times really just a lack of perspective. Like I tell my kids, "Someone got the worst possible news of their life today, and it wasn't you. We can work this out."

I was doodling the other day, and I wanted to share what I came up with. Kind of The Serenity Prayer's long lost cousin, twice removed, The Perspective Prayer.

Please give me the eyes to see things objectively.
Even when it is hard.
Really teach me to appreciate how blessed my life is.
Switch my focus from my problems to my opportunities.
Provide chances for me to see what burdens others carry-that I may make them lighter.
Every time something goes wrong, help me to...
Choose the BIG PICTURE over the zoom lens of my life.
Teach me how great my riches are in my family...
In my friends. And when things are...
Very challenging, may I remember that...
Even then, life is good.


“We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.”
― Abraham Lincoln

Kitty

When Taryn was 7 months old, or "zero years old" as she likes to say, she got her first stuffed animal for Christmas from my Aunt Pam. It was a beautiful plush cat, with fur as fluffy and white as freshly driven snow, and lovely marble blue eyes. I promptly named this cat "Kitty" because I am so creative. At her young age, Taryn didn't have a particular inclination toward Kitty, but I chose to put it in her stroller with her when we would go out and about, or to give it to her on car rides. Soon, she got used to Kitty being around, and before long she actually started to prefer him being there to not. He went everywhere she went: to Nana's house, to bed, the doctor's office, and even the dreaded dentist. When she would fall asleep, she would rub kitty on the front right paw sweetly, as the softness of his puffy paw calmed her and reassured her that she was not alone. During more nervous times, like on the way to the dentist, she would rub kitty on that same paw faster, almost feverishly, as she quietly cried and tried to extract any bit of comfort from him that she could.

My memories of Taryn's childhood thus far, both happy and sad, are "Kittyful", and I think I am almost as attached to that little stuffed kitten as Taryn is. When I think of the day that Taryn doesn't need Kitty anymore, it makes my heart swell with emotions. So, too, does the memory of her little 3 year old face peeking over the edge of the washing machine to say goodbye to Kitty when he had to get a "bath". The pout on her lips, and the question, "Will he be ok?", still melt my heart with my memory of it just as it did that very day.

Kitty looks different now. His snow colored fur is still snow colored, but now it resembles the snow a few days after the storm, after having been exposed to the salt and sand trucks, and then pushed aside by the plow. His once fluffy fur is unfluffable now, no matter how hard we try. Instead, it sits smoothly against his body, and his seams show all over because of it. Kitty's once clear, marble blue eyes are now so scratched that I am sure that he can scarcely see a thing anymore. In true Velveteen Rabbit fashion, being loved has taken a toll on Kitty. He has been there, and he has been faithful. He has never failed her, not even once. But love has a way of revealing things, doesn't it? Whether it be people or stuffed animals, the more we give ourselves to being loved legitimately, the more our beautiful facade fades and we show our seams. Kitty shows the scars of having been loved. He gave his fluff, his cleanliness, his whiskers, and his sparkling eyes, just a little bit each day, whenever they were required. As he did, my little girl learned to be brave, and peaceful, and to feel safer.

Sometimes when I see Kitty sitting on the bed next to the pristine, newer stuffed animals that overpopulate the area, I want to cry. I remember him the way he once was, and I see how he has aged. I appreciate him so much, for what he has meant to my little girl, and I wish that I could have kept him from getting so common looking, and maybe even a little bit pitiful. I feel sorry for him, as I tug on his limbs and test whether they are starting to come loose, and wish that her love hadn't taken so much out of him.

But then bedtime comes, and Taryn throws all of the other, perfect animals on the floor and holds Kitty in her arms. No stuffed animal has ever looked as beautiful as Kitty does in that moment, and I know that all of those other animals must wish for just one moment to have a little girl love them like that.

Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.”
― Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit