As much as I’m not a morning person, there are some mornings when I am just so grateful for the sun to rise. Today is one of them.
Does anyone else lie awake at night replaying what they’ve said or not said, done or not done during the day? In the cover of night, everything always seems more worrisome.
When I was a new teacher 15 years ago, I struggled with sleep because I worried, almost incessantly, if I was doing a good enough job with my middle school chargers. I would wake my husband up in the middle of the night to replay a dialogue I had with a coworker or student.
On and off since then, these feelings have returned. They sneak up on me when I least expect them and the night time worries resume. And motherhood has complicated them for me. Because I worry about my kids for no good reason and a million good reasons, all at once, and sometimes, the emotions get the best of me.
Did I stumble over my own words during that meeting last night?
Did I unplug the toaster?
Did I convey, enough, how proud I was of him?
Did I lock the basement door?
Did I speak too sternly or loudly to my child who wouldn’t go to sleep?
Am I a good example?
Did I set an alarm, on the almost impossible chance that no one wakes by 6:00 a.m.?
Am I doing the right thing? Am I doing the best thing? And how do I know? How do any of us know?
And that’s usually where it all begins and where it all ends as the sun rises. Am I doing the right thing? Am I doing the best thing?
When the sun comes up and my room is covered in light or as I walk into school to teach, with the sun on the rise in the sky, usually, the worries subside. The sun illuminates the blessings that abound. And I can see them.
And this morning, that was the way. After another night of worry, I woke to this beautiful sunshine and a son who danced as he waited for his waffles and a daughter who threw lemon by lemon from the bowl on the table to the floor. He danced and she threw lemons and I laughed. I shouldn’t have laughed at her, but it just seemed like the thing to do this morning.
Thanks for Mothering the Divide here with the sun on the rise. I hope today you enjoy some of your best things, too–whomever or whatever they are.