My Time

I like getting up early in the morning, before my family is even thinking about getting out of bed. On most mornings, I either go to the gym or go running with a couple neighborhood mamas. Even after that, I still have a good hour to hour and a half before the fam rises at 8 a.m.
Since I work outside the home, I have a lot of guilt about the time I spend away from home that isn't work. But this time is stolen time, since everyone is asleep!
I can read magazines, drink my coffee, explore the interwebs, do some sewing, or whatever.
So for a whole week last month, darling girlchild was getting up at 6:30 and following me downstairs. Which is not so bad except she was demanding my attention.
Girl: "Mama, please read me a story?"
Me: "No, you're not supposed to be up yet. Go back to bed."
Girl: "But I want to be with you!"
Me (picking up my Vogue mag): "That's nice, but this is my time. If you want to be downstairs, you can sit on that end of the couch and look at a book. But you have to let me have my time."
She was relentless. *@#!%&*! My time was ruined.

Next morning, same scenario.
This time, I thought to make her hot chocolate, thinking that would keep her busy long enough for me to do some writing. It worked a tad, but I was distressed to be losing my time alone.

Third morning, I'm on my spot on the couch drinking my coffee and reading.
padpadpadpad little feet down the stairs. I sighed.
Girl: "Mama, is this your time?"
Me: "Yes, dear. You should go back to bed."
Girl: "But I'm cold and thirsty. Will you make me hot chocolate?" {She often talks in riddles like that}
Sigh.
I come back with her cup of hot chocolate, and she is sitting in my spot on the couch, reading her Highlights magazine.
She giggled, and very pleased with herself said, "Look, Mama! Now it's my time!"

Oh, girl. If only you knew. It's always your time.