Scrambled Eggs.

Today, over eggs, Jared suggested that maybe we could have a few more kids so he could be served a complete, full breakfast each morning.

I laughed because, well, it was funny.

After I laughed, I rolled my eyes. Especially when he suggested the next child would add hashbrowns. Maybe twins after that, to add bacon and sausage.

"And a little caboose later on, for orange juice."

Funny to you? Now, let me explain.

Back in the day, when we were just Mr. and Mrs., (sans child), Jared would leave for school much earlier than I had to be up and ready for my own job. Thus, I stayed in bed, sound asleep. He got himself dressed and ready for the day, just like a big boy. He poured his own milk over cereal, and on occassion, grabbed a granola bar on his way out the door, if he slept in a little too late.

When we were first married, he asked if I would get up with him in the mornings and make him breakfast.

Can you imagine my response? I think it went something like this:

".ell no."

You see, my motto is: sleep in as late as possible. It's simple. It's engrained in me. I need my sleep. I need my sleep. I think my biggest new-mommy meltdowns happened in the middle of the night. Even now, newborn sleeping schedules ironed out, at the first sound of baby stirrings in the early morning, I say a quick prayer asking for a little extra 'sleepy dust' to be sprinkled on Morg's little head. My prayer goes like this: "Please, Heavenly Father...."...so we can all sleep just. a. little. longer.

Sometimes it works. And that little extra sleep feels like a holy miracle.  Sometimes (most of the time), (without choice), we're early-risers. Still, in all of that early-rising, I have found that we've sleepily discovered other miracles.

Like the happy greeting of a well-rested baby.
The refreshing feeling of opening blinds.
A sunbathed kitchen.
Pillows and blankets on the family room floor.
Sweet almond granola bars.

And the occassional scrambling of eggs.