You don't talk back to a rooster

I've never considered myself a night-owl. Once 10:00 PM hits, I'm usually a goner. I had roommates get a kick out of this. It's not like I just get tired, it's like I lose the ability to function and will fall asleep where I am, regardless of the surrounding commotion. I've been known to just drift out of conversation when it gets too late. Brent says he can tell when it's after 10:30 or 11:00 because I get cheeky, but most of the time I just can't help it. The coach may turn into a pumpkin at midnight, but my filters turn off by 11. Brent's getting to the point where he can tell when I'm not being serious and I just need to go to bed. Usually. 

Conversely, an ounce of morning is worth a pound of afternoon. It always has been for me and it always will be. I'm a morning person. That's my productive time, and I'm happiest tackling my to-do list before 1:00 PM. True, it's as hard for me to get out of bed some mornings as would a "normal human being" (Brent's words, not mine), but once I'm up, I can usually get going in no time. 

My dear, sweet husband is not a morning person at all. I was worried about this initially. How could we ever function together? It's been an adjustment, for sure. Brent's had to learn how to handle cheekiness and I've learned that I can't have a real conversation with Brent until about noon, and we get by okay. 

That said, I dread the mornings when I have to wake Brent up to, say, get ready for church. This morning was no exception. I let him sleep as long as the clock would allow, and I gingerly laid down next to him about 8:15 and said, "Brent, love, it's time to get up for Church." And then, dear reader, he growled at me. I've never heard him so mad. He literally growled at me and then rolled over. 

Not to be deterred (because I have this irrational fear of being late for anything), I gently stroked his hair and told him I was sorry and that it really was time to get up. He growled again, so I lovingly asked, "What's wrong, honey?"

To which he replied," Ugh, you ruined my game!" 

"What?," I asked, bewildered. 

"You just ruined my game!," says my suddenly petulant husband. 

"I'm sorry, honey, but I just said it's time to get up so we can get ready for Church."

"No, you just said, 'no jumping,' and threw off my whole game!"

I had to stifle my laughter as I snuck out of the room to blow-dry my hair. I figured I'd try it again in a couple of minutes. Sure enough, after some more gentle prodding, Brent was up and getting ready for Church. We were only 5 minutes late. 

In Brent's defense, we were up super late last night cleaning up after his sister's wedding reception. It was beautiful but a lot of work. I'm grateful for everyone who was good enough to stay until the job was done. Still, I guess I'll leave the alarm clock to the job of waking up my husband.