Smelling sunscreen at 6am

I’ve got coconut crème creamer in my coffee.  The smell of sunscreen is permeating form the rug in my living room (thanks to daily spray-on sunscreen applications).  The sun is bright and if I close my eyes I can almost imagine I’m on the beach and that’s why I was up a 6:15am.  Because waking up at the beach for the sunrise is okay.

Waking up in Memphis at sunrise is not.  I’m a stay at home mom.  So summer is supposed to be my sleep in time.  I don’t have to get up, make lunches, find uniform pieces, locate the hot pink cowboy boots for school, put those back because today is P.E. day, chase down Monkey Man and wake the sleeping dragon a.k.a. Peanut up.  It’s summer time.  But Monkey Man and Bug do not see things that way.  All they know is the sun is up. 

And of course, Mommy, it’s time to start the day and don’t you want to be up? Don’t you want our smiling faces and loud toys and surely you want to watch Cars again.  Everyone does.  And you haven’t had coffee or even thought about what day it is, but we need a million things, and I want to color, and he wants breakfast and I need milk – with chocolate milk in it – and all while we have the inability to be even remotely quiet. 

Children have a fascinating ability to use a vocal volume level that is conversely related to the situation they are in.  If they are playing alone, during the day, when it is acceptable to be noisy, they are quiet and sneaky.  Sometimes deviously so.  But at 6:15 in the morning, when I haven’t had my coffee they are loud.  Rock concert loud. Our amps are turned up to 11 loud.  Which of course wakes everyone else up.  Which of course leaves me with two very grumpy girls.  Which of course makes for a fantabulous day.  You’re jealous!

Eleven years ago Clark Kent and I got married.  It was a very small ceremony in a church on a Sunday morning before Sunday School.  I was in a sundress and flip flops, he was in a Hawaiian print shirt and flip flops.  He hadn’t met most of my family.  We got married and drove to a family reunion (on my dad’s side) where I proceeded to introduce, for the first time, Clark Kent, who is, by the way, my husband.  Good times.  I never would have thought in that church that morning that I would be sitting here, in Memphis of all places, with four amazing children.  A gymnast, a dancer, one who starts soccer in August and one whose greatest achievement thus far is rolling off his belly.  It’s an amazing life, and an amazing 11 years.  I can’t wait for the next 11.  I can’t wait for our 50^th wedding anniversary.  I promise I’ll dance the funky chicken. 

But for now, I’m just going to close my eyes real tight and listen for those waves.