Some of my favorite mornings are the ones where we wake up together, before the kids do. Ryan isn’t between us, pushing against Dan’s side or stomach with his feet while his jaws are working furiously on my breast, Alyssa isn’t bounding in and circling our bed like a shark, and the cats are off doing their own thing.
So we take advantage of the quiet, of the peace. For those moments, we can pretend it’s just us, and push all of our worries and stresses and to-do lists out of our mind and just focus on one another. And we do it, and do it well. We cuddle. Kiss. Talk. Tease one another. I’ll giggle over him griping about how hard it is to pee first thing in the morning. He’ll fling his boxers at me. I’ll steal his side of the bed, because it’s warm and smells just like him. I’ll steal his pillow, too, and do my best to hold on to it when he comes back and tries to confiscate it so he can beat me with it.
I love those mornings. On those mornings, it’s just us, and we can lay back and bask in it and in each other’s arms.


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