Cock-a-doodle-do

Last Thursday morning at around 6am, I sat in the quiet house, in the darkness of pre-dawn, sipping coffee at my kitchen table. I was still very sleepy, but happy to have a few moments of quiet before beginning another long day. After a mere three minutes, I hear "Cock-a-doodle-do! Cock-a-doodle-do!" The house is otherwise quiet. I get up, tiptoe to the bottom of the stairs, thinking that maybe I was just hearing things, and again I hear "Cock-a-doodle-do! Cock-a-doodle-do!" Then I hear little feet scurrying down the hall, opening a door and saying it again. I stand at the bottom of the stairs and wait for them to walk down the hallway and greet me from the top. They are whispering, and when they get to the top of the stairs, I see messy hair, sleepy eyes, both of them holding their stuffed animals, and warm smiles on their faces.

Paige says, "Tony woke me up." But she is smiling.

I say, "I know, I heard him, I thought a rooster got caught in the attic!"

They both laugh, and make their way down the stairs. I pull each of them into one arm each and hold them to my chest.

"Good morning babies." Paige snuggles her nose into my neck and says "Good morning Mommy!" Tony pulls back from me and says, "Cock-a-doodle-do! Arf!" (Apparently, he is unable to choose between careers now.) Every time I think about him waking us up with a "Cock-a-doodle-do", I smile. He's such a funny little boy, and they both know how to make each other laugh so well.

The other story that made me smile occurred on St. Patrick's Day - they were both dressed in green, not head-to-toe leprechaun like, but green. We had been talking about St. Patrick's day for some time, and the teacher's at school made a huge deal out of it. So I asked Paige before school if she wanted corned beef or ham and potatoes to celebrate the holiday. She said, "You know mommy, I thought about it, and well, I know we should have meat and potatoes, but I really want Rigatoni." Enough said, we had rigatoni and meatballs - the best Irish meal I've ever tasted.

There are so many more cute stories I jot down so I won't forget them, but it seems like I have been allowing my "bad" weeks to interfere with this, and that is the true reason why I just want it to be over. That, and because I am just sick of hearing my whining voice go over the injustices, the facts, the "guess what happened now?", the anger... it's tiring, and boring, and it requires too much of my time. I just want to sleep off the imbalance and wake up refreshed. Hopefully, to the tune of "Cock-a-doodle-do."