Top of the morning

Over the past few weeks, I keep hearing about how 6am is the best time of the day. After being told this from a few mums [who I really think are just trying to make themselves feel better about their larks] I've been pondering if it is, in fact, true.

I've never really been a morning person, though on the other hand I've never been a night owl either. I've had stints as both, but in a perfect world I'd love to go to bed at 9pm and wake 12 hours later. I love bed. I love sleep. Not that I've seen much of either in recent years, but that's a whole other post.

During my partying days, 6am would bring dread to my stomach. That first glimpse of light and the sorrowful squawk of the birds would have me running to pull the doona over my head. Hopefully I could block out the cold light of day for a few hours before rolling out of bed.

Then I had children. With my bubs, 6am brings the same dread. Usually because I've been up all night with one or both of them and it's around this time Goosey decides to fall into a deep slumber and I hear Lil-lil starting to stir. Which means there's absolutely no chance of pulling the pillow over my head, instead I'll be pulling the Weet-Bix box off the shelf and turning on the telly.

I have to admit though, there have been some glorious mornings when the Skip (or King Sting as he's referring to himself these days) has dragged me out of bed while most of the world is still asleep and we've headed down to the beach. The light of the early morning is so fresh and new. Everything feels clean and full of promise. Everyone is friendly to each other and waves hello - it's like a secret fellowship of dawn revelers. After a large flat white, all seems to be right with the world and I vow to make this early morning pilgrimage more often.

There is one of these mornings that stands out more than the others. It was New Year's Day 2008. The night before the Skip and I had celebrated with a delicious Giaconda pinot noir and a Big Mac (thank you Sideways) and had been fast asleep by 11pm. So feeling revived, we took Lil-lil down to Balmoral for an early morning dip. It seems we weren't the only ones who had ushered in the new year with a snore as I was amazed at how many fresh-faced people were down there, with the exception of a pair of young girls who were trying to work out how to call a cab and struggling to use their phone. As I watched Lil-lil and the Skip splash on the water's edge and that golden light spilled over them like honey, it felt like everything was as it should be. I just wish all 6ams could be like that.