When I was a child, I was a major morning person. I was almost always up before my parents. It helped that I was incredibly independent too. Before my mother even opened her eyes, I would have been up for a couple of hours - teeth brushed, hair combed, tummy full with Cheerios, and maybe even a little extra time watching Romper Room.
In high school, I started to lose my early bird ways. Having a part-time job that didn’t finish until after 10pm and a boyfriend who I just always had to call before I fell asleep translated into rushed mornings to get to school on time. Don’t tell my mother, but my senior year in high school I was tardy to my first period class over twenty times in a single semester.
By college I had lost any notion of being an early bird. Late night parties, hanging with friends, midnight movies, and all night raves made sleeping in until after 11am a standard occurence (ok and there was some studying in there too). Whenever my dad would call around 9am on a Saturday morning, I tried my best to hide the fact that I only went to bed a mere three hours before.
But it wasn’t until I became a mother that I became a bona fide night owl.