Loving the Night Life

I am a night owl.  My best hours are from about 10 pm to 2 am.  Having a baby certainly put a crimp into that lifestyle.  Regardless of how many times I try to explain that to Quinn, she insists on both of us waking up rather early in the morning.  Although it sometimes results in me being very sleep deprived, I still love this time of night.  The house is quiet and my thoughts seem to flow to paper so easily.  It’s my “magic” time.

Perhaps because I love this time of night so much, I keep forgetting to order decaf when I meet the girls for coffee.   Yep, I had a big old cup of full strength coffee a couple of hours ago, ensuring that even if I wanted to go to bed, sleep would flee from me.

I don’t understand the 8 to 5 world, although I lived in it for many years.  Regardless of what time I actually woke up, I wasn’t alert and ready to communicate with the world at large until 10 am.  There was a running joke in my old law office that you just didn’t talk to Paige before 10.  It wasn’t that I was in a bad mood, I just wasn’t awake yet.  I don’t know where my circadian rhythms got so messed up or if I was always this way.  For as long as I can remember, I loved the night and dreaded early mornings.

This is probably why I loved college and thrived there.  College towns cater to the night owls, as there are always people up working on homework and projects they procrastinated on.  Restaurants, neat little coffee shops, and, of course, Wal-Mart are always ready to greet the night owl in a college town.  Your class schedule, for the most part, could be arranged to suit your preferences.  When I could swing it, I never scheduled a class before 10 am.

There’s also the small problem of my odd reasoning skills in the morning.  As the alarm goes off, I start bargaining with myself and the laws of time and physics don’t seem to apply in my house.  I can absolutely convince myself that I can shower, do my hair and makeup, and get dressed in 5 minutes.  So, see? It isn’t a problem if I hit snooze and sleep another 15 minutes.

Now that I have Quinn, and get to stay home with her, I don’t have to worry so much.  Quinn doesn’t care what I look like when I’m feeding her breakfast.  I don’t have to use my unique reasoning skills until Sunday rolls around.   Then it’s a scramble to get us ready for church because, once I realize that the laws of physics and time DO apply in my house, I’m screeching, “We’re going to be late!!” every five minutes.

I’ve tried to be an early worm and a morning person.  My apologies to the sun, but I just don’t have it in me.   I love the nightlife!