Stress: The all-natural way to start your day.
Yeah, it was self-inflicted stress caused by night owl tendencies. I pushed the boundaries of good sense back then, but survived high school and college.
Punctuality is considered a virtue in the work-a-day world, too. But newspaper jobs often involve covering late meetings or interviewing people after they get off work, so there's a general flexibility in the morning at the Mighty Daily Journal.
Now I have kids, and mornings aren't what they used to be. The kids are great and all, but they don't appreciate quality slumber. For instance, my son, 4-year-old Evan, never met a nap he didn't fight.
"Son, in my world, a nap is the next best thing to an all-you-can-eat buffet," I told him.
"You're strange, Dada," he said.
"Seriously, son, voluntary naps are an important step on the road to maturity."
"I don't need no maturity."
"I don't need any maturity."
He made an unintelligible sound of frustration, then said, "I don't need no nap."
"You must get your crazy from your mother."
"She says I get it from you."
You gotta love them because you can't sell them to the gypsies any more, but I sometimes long for those good old 18th-century values.
As of Friday, the Morris family is back on school time so my 7-year-old daughter Olivia can get to second grade. It's a hard transition after a summer vacation that seems far too short.
I've heard it's best to keep everyone on a school-based sleep schedule throughout the summer to avoid the painful adjustments that we'll be making over the next couple of weeks.
From my point of view, change is inevitable, and the kids need to learn how to deal with it sooner rather than later.
If it were possible for me to wake up at 5 a.m., I'd get up and roust them out of bed every so often just to teach them how to handle adversity. It's a pity that it takes a jackhammer to get me out of bed that early because the kids could use the lesson.
I haven't repeated that high school dream about waking up and getting dressed only to wake up and get dressed.
On Friday morning, I dreamed it was exam time and I hadn't gone to any of my classes. That dream comes around once or twice a year, and probably signifies that I should be on high-powered, anti-anxiety medication.
But I hear such drugs are expensive. Besides, my most vivid dreams happen in the last, indulgent hour before getting out of bed.
Now, that indulgent hour is dead.
School's in session.
M. Scott Morris is a Daily Journal entertainment writer. Contact him at (662) 678-1589 or firstname.lastname@example.org.