Wasted

Forty is the old age of youth; fifty is the youth of old age. (Victor Hugo)

Let’s just say I’m in my youth now.

I don’t know how this happened. I blinked and I’m now turn-the-music-down-so-l-can-drive old.

I’m finding the old adage, Youth is wasted on the young, to be entirely too true.

Our 16-year-old got his first official job this year. Wahoo! He’s a cook at a fast food place in town, and he’s loving earning his own money. I’m loving the fact I’m no longer his ATM.

What I don’t love is picking him up when his shift closes. On the weekends that means he’s done around 11:30. At NIGHT!

Now, I fully recognize that this used to be about the time I’d go out in college because things were just getting going. In contrast, this is now the time I’ve already been asleep for an hour.

Somewhere along my journey I accidentally became a morning person. I’m not super chipper in the morning til I’ve had me some Jesus and coffee, but I can do mornings. Even early mornings.

I love the feel of waking up before everyone, watching a sunrise, sipping coffee on my front porch.

I blame my kids for this season. They’ve trained me for it.

When they were little they would wake up early, which meant if I wanted any time to myself, I had to wake up even earlier.

And now that we’re here, what are they doing? Working late and sleeping til noon. And I have to pick up said late worker because he’s still saving for a car.

I’m not sure what to do about this particular conundrum. Teens never seem to go to bed and I still need my beauty sleep. Even more so now that I’m in the phase of life where I can literally cough wrong and tweak my neck.

My answer, at least for now, is waaaaaaay more coffee and a whole lotta Jesus.