It's like Christmas every day

I have very vivid memories of Christmas morning as a kid. It was the only day of the year that I would wake up before my parents. Normally I'd stay under the covers as long as possible.

That hasn't changed, but nowadays, "as long as possible" is not very long. My kids are nothing like I was. To them, every day is Christmas.

The boys typically awaken before dawn, sneak into our room and curl up in our bed. Hopefully, if I am very, very lucky, they will go back to sleep. If the sun is already coming up, it's hopeless. "Look, Mom!" my 4-year-old will whisper, and from the excitement in his voice you would swear he has spotted a unicorn. "It's morning!"

Sometimes I can remain in bed, even if the boys head downstairs to their trains and cars and books. But by 7:00 a.m., my daughter is standing in her crib calling for me: "Mommy! Mommy, whereareyou? Whereareyou Mommy?"

It always astounds me how excited they can be about starting a new day. Didn't I carry each of these children in my own body for nine months? Is my own blood not coursing through their veins?

Is it possible they can all be morning people, bouncing out of bed the moment their eyes flicker open, enthusiastically picking up their adventures from the day before?

Then there's me, eyelids heavy, brain fuzzy, trying to propel myself out of my warm, cozy nest.

Maybe someday I can work this to my advantage, training them to start a pot of coffee and whip up some French toast while I snooze on.

Who am I kidding? They'll be teenagers before long, staying up late and sleeping till noon on the weekends. Then I'll be able to wake up at nine and look like the early bird.