Of Mornings and What Matters

My watch alarm chimes reminding me that it would be in my best interest to start my day. Unfortunately it has lost yet again, as I can’t remember the last time that it beat me to get up in the morning. I’ve already showered, had something to eat and am presently sitting with my daughter for her morning feeding, just as the familiar beeping interrupts my bassy chorus of Let the Sun Shine In. I press the button and am un-phased as I continue the song. The morning is my time to thrive; it is when I am on. While others begrudge leaving the warmth of their cozy bed, I am rearing and ready to go.

How appropriate then that a little baby girl, barely five months old, gets prime dibs on that time. The bottle is ready, and is being shaken one last time signaling to her that it is time to eat. Her legs are revved up and doing a bicycle exercise that would put even the most ardent gym rat to shame. After a momentary struggle to get her bib on, she is set and breakfast begins.

I remember a time not so long ago, that saw me getting up and hurrying out the door in an attempt to get to work early to squeeze an additional hour of productive time out of the day. It is not that I live for my job (though I will admit that I do thoroughly enjoy being a teacher), it is rather that there is always something to do.

She chokes on the formula as she hungrily eats, and I am reminded that I need to pull the bottle out to allow her to clear ‘her pipes.’ She regains her composure, or rather changes from a coughing fit to the beginning stages of a crying fit, suggesting that breakfast is hardly done and that I better get that bottle back in or else.

What will happen now that I have lost that hour of potential work time? Will I be behind in my day? Will I need to find the time elsewhere to make it up? Will I be any less productive? Hardly, though truth be told it really doesn’t matter. All I care about right now is finishing the feeding so that I can hold my baby girl and watch her smile and coo, as she seizes my heart in a strangle hold (and only five months in), and offers me a renewed perspective on the world.

Brett and his wife Simmy live in south Winnipeg with their five and a half month old daughter Aasha.

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