My father was a school administrator and he needed to arrive at work early in the morning. As a consequence he was the first in my house to arise. It was my father’s responsibility to make sure my brother and I got up and ready for school. My mother stayed in bed—not because she was lazy—it was because neither my father nor my brother nor I wanted her around. My mother was (and still is) excessively cheerful and talkative in the morning. The three of us were not. So my mother stayed in bed to avoid the sneers. It was safer for her that way.
The way I arose every morning until I got married at age 25 was this way: my father would wake me and my brother up by coming into our rooms, turning on the light and snapping his fingers at us until we snapped back (our signal that we were up). No words were ever spoken. And when my brother and I met up with my father in the kitchen we all uttered 2 words to each other: Good Morning-- and then we independently prepared our breakfast and cups of coffee (my father put the coffee pot up in the morning the minute he got out of bed before he took his shower). We each went about our business in solitude. There was never any conversation unless it was absolutely necessary and we all liked it that way.
When I got married, and for the next twenty five years, my husband and I had the following routine: I would get up early—around 6:30-- and get the girls ready for school. And he remained in bed until about 8:00. My husband worked long hours and worked late. His first client appointment was typically not until 9 or 10 am so he slept in as long as he could in the morning since he never ever (even when it was not tax season) came home before 7:30-8:00 at night. My husband needed all the sleep he could get.
And the fact that my husband did not get up until 8 am or so totally worked for me. I liked being quiet with the girls in the morning. It was what I had always been used to. By the time my husband came down for breakfast I had already driven several kids to school, thrown a load of wash in, made some beds, perhaps spoken to a friend, and was on my second cup of coffee. I was ready for conversation. And this was important since with his work schedule, it was the only time of day we had time to communicate. By the time my husband came home from work at night the household was too hectic to have an in-depth discussion. And my husband was, and is perfectly okay with the routine of getting out of bed and having meaningful conversation—it does not irritate him in any way.
This past January our lives changed. My husband merged his practice with a larger one and he became the comptroller of one of his former clients. My husband now works like a real person. He reports at 8 am and leaves his new office every day on the dot at 6. We eat dinner together. We have fewer constraints on our time together. We behave like normal married people.
Except every blessing has its curse: my husband and I now wake up at the same time in the morning and converge in the kitchen simultaneously. And my husband was unaware that I liked being quiet when I first got up in the morning because for 25 years we had had a different routine. My husband was now coming down for breakfast and expecting me to be the same person at 7:00 am that I had formerly been at 8:00 or 8:30 am. My husband expected me to converse prior to my first cup of coffee. He expected meaningful discourse. He expected me to relate.
And for the first week after he began his new job I tried really hard to be the person he expected. But he didn’t seem to notice that I gave monosyllabic responses to his questions. He didn’t notice my disinterest in his agenda. He failed to observe feigned enthusiasm. He didn’t understand that I watched Good Morning America and not The Today Show. But here’s the thing: we are who we are and it is never good to pretend to be something you are not.
And so I had to come clean with him. I had to tell him something about me that he had not known for 25 years. I am not a morning person. I like solitude at least until my first cup of coffee has kicked in. Until that first cup of coffee has kicked in I do not want to share what my plans are for the day or who I plan to talk to. I do not care how the Mets or the Yankees or the Jets or the Giants are doing. I do not care to discuss what I watched on TV last night or what the kids are up to. And I care very little about who is coming into his office that day and what meetings he has scheduled. My brain can’t handle it yet. I need caffeine to fire up the neurons. I need some carbohydrates first to inspire my metabolism.
And I think because he realized the future of our marriage required his acquiescence, we now have a new morning routine. We wake up. I tend to the dogs and make the coffee pot. And we sit in silence at the breakfast table eating our breakfast and sipping our coffee. We listen to Robin Roberts and George Stephanopolis on Good Morning America. And when I am mentally ready, I initiate the conversation. And slowly we connect. And slowly we renew our mutual interest. And slowly we move forward with our day. And important conversation can be put off until dinnertime---because his schedule is different---we actually have dinner together every night-- and we now have more opportunities to discuss things the way other people do—discussion need not be relegated to morningtime anymore. And it is good to have a marriage like other people. We have figured out a new dance. The timing and movement is different but the costumes are the same. And we figured out how to not step on each other’s toes despite the changed choreography. We made adjustments. And it’s a good thing.
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