Disclaimer: I own nothing. .gnihton nwo I
Hope you all enjoy.
Peace
And a week after the shooting, I wake up before another dawn has risen.
I know that I've already told you that waking up at the crack of dawn isn't easy, especially when the person doing so is most definitely not a morning person. What I haven't told you is that the only way I've successfully combatted that unhelpful habit of mine is through hardcore discipline and practice. I know I sound like a harping grandmother and it's the cliché that will magically solve all of life's issues, but it did work for me.
Where that hardcore discipline and practice comes from is another story entirely.
I've tried to find it in myself, but that leads to failure as my many late attendances in my earlier years of high school can tell you. Later on, Kristoff helped a bunch in getting me started on my early riser schedule. Trust me; you too would rather wake up to your alarm clock than take a dunking from a bucket full of icy water. Even afterwards, I still had plenty of practice which can all be credited to the experiences granted by the first months of motherhood and college.
So, it only takes a few seconds of the alarm sounding off for me to shut it off. Still, I must act quickly to make sure the alarm's job does not go in vain. The main trick is to not lay back down after the alarm, or else, I'll be knocked out before I know it.
I don't even give myself the chance to think about drifting off as I push myself up from sleeping on my stomach and turn around to sit in bed. Trying to boot up my mind enough to help me walk without falling flat on my face, I use this moment just to take in what's around me.
My hair is pulled slightly by an old scrunchy that creates the loose ponytail that I sleep with. If I didn't do that, my hair would end up as tangled as a bird's nest. Kristoff's light snoring sounds next to me as the man I love is dead to the world. I half-mindedly tug what remaining blanket I have left and cover him with it, not wanting him to feel the morning chill that's helping me get closer to my wakefulness.
My eyes scrunch up tight as I shiver, stretch, and yawn at the same time.
My back feels warmer than the rest of me. It's a rather large spot that has formed between my shoulder blades and goes down my back. Before I can think of it as strange, the answer is made clear as familiarly large paws scale their way up my legs and settle themselves near my lap. I groggily reach out to scratch the jaw of the purring monochrome cat that's somehow ended up in our bed.
Again.
Marshmallow has taken up the habit of sleeping in our bed. I don't know how as we always close the door before going to be. It's not locked, but the doorknob is circular, so it's not an easy task for a thumb-less animal to open it.
Personally, I think Kristoff's the one letting him in, but you won't find me complaining too much about it.
Still, I needed to get up. So, after a few more loving strokes down his back, I reluctantly move the giant lump of warm fur off my lap… only for a smaller lump of warm fur to take its place. I can't keep the smile off my face as Queen's soft mews sound out for attention.
Similar to Marshmallow, this isn't Queen's first time on the bed. She's a little troublemaker in the making and seems to have figured out that following Marshmallow will lead her to all of the best secrets of the house. Which is kind of true, since she is the first of the trio to figure out that I'm the human who handles the food in this home with all the times she's seen me feed the hungry mouths around here.
Nevertheless, the orange tabby kitten is the feistiest little feisty-pants of the trio and has burrowed her way into my heart. I want to snuggle her so bad and just go back to sleep. Cracking an eye open to spot her own blue eyes, I make myself a compromise as I lift her up in my arms and start my shuffle down towards the covered window.
The crib is positioned right next to it, allowing the faintest of starlight to shine on Elijah's sleeping form. He's resting on his back and his head is tilted to the side showing his face. My baby boy is the picture of sleepy peace: ruffled haired, arms spread, and gracefully dreaming.
Sadly, that picture was only possible if he slept with us.
Elijah still has trouble sleeping alone in his nursery. If he's left alone in there, he somehow wakes back up and will start belting out his little lungs. A frown tugs at the corners of my lips with those early memories. Shifting the groggy kitten in my arms, I reach out to grasp my youngest son's loose fist. Still, we learned quickly. Neither me or Kristoff stray far from a sleeping Elijah, and if we must, we do return as quickly as we can to comfort our littlest one.
Watching and counting the times his little chest moves up and down, I know I could happily stand there forever.
Well… some mornings aren't completely bad.
Looking down a little further, I see Marshmallow reared up. With his added height, he shifts his golden gaze between me and little Elijah as if asking a question. With a small smile to the feline and a parting brush of my fingers to the small hand I held, I turn to the door. A near silent set of paw steps follows me along the way.
My body sways at times since my brain wants to find the nearest horizontal platform to sleep on, but I continue my silent journey. Well, as silent as I can be while cooing to an adorable kitten in my arms. My other eyelid slowly starts to want to cooperate with my other eyelid and allows both of my eyes to see more and more of my dim house.
Passing the twins' room, I stealthy take a quick peak. The restoration on the house was so well done that the door doesn't make a single squeak as I open it.
My heart swells up in my chest at the sight of my almost 7-year-old boys. Both of them are fast asleep with only their bushy heads visibly turned to each other. Their health, their happiness, and their peace all seem to put a glow on their beautiful faces. The same faces I would do anything for as to keep such a precious treasure undisturbed.
Originally, Me and Kristoff had planned on giving each of the boys their own room in the bigger house, but Marshall and Olaf still insisted on sharing a bedroom. They pulled out all the stops for it: begging, bargaining, promising, and their dual-wielding puppy eyes.
The change wasn't too difficult to figure out and I ended up getting my own office, so we all ended up happy. And I can only imagine how relieved Olaf and Marshall were to continue to spend those twilight hours of their lives with each other.
The brush of fur on my pant leg is brief as Marshmallow pads quietly forward. I watch as he rears onto his back legs to briefly repeat what he had done just recently. He leans upon and swaps his gaze from Marshall's bed to me a few times. Then, he does the same to Olaf's. It'll be odd to anyone else who spotted this behavior, but it's part of Marshmallow's routine by now.
I think I'm the only one who wakes up early enough to catch him doing this.
Nevertheless, Queen makes it know that she's hungry by trying to nibble and knead my shirt. A flittering of my fingers is all it takes for the curious kitten to be invest on them instead of my favorite shirt. Making a beckoning motion with a jerky nod of my head, I turn to make my way out and Marshmallow slinks out after me.
I make it down the hall, down the stairs, across the living room, and to the kitchen in the gloom with very little bumps along the way.
Isn't that somewhat dangerous and spooky?
Kind of.
Why didn't I just turn on the lights?
Well, what fun would that be? Besides, I can move around this house with both of my eyes close. Just not with both my eyes close and half-asleep.
Taking a quick pause by the basement stairs, I maneuver Queen to the floor with one arm as the other opens the door. By the time I'm in the kitchen, Marshmallow would already be down in the basement with the rest of the feline family.
I'm slowed down by my quick mistake of flicking on the lights and am forced to spend several moments trying to adjust to their brightness. The kitten-shaped alarm at my feet allowed no rest for my weary self as Queen's mewing grew louder with expectation.
I breathing in deeply as a yawn forces open my mouth as if trying to expel the last of my exhaustion from my body. The combo of lights, exercise, and purpose allow me to wake up enough to allow half of my awesome cooking skills to shine through.
I waste no time as a swishing spoon, a pair of whirling plates, and a mess of ingredients come swiftly by my commanding limbs. I gather the array of material to make a breakfast fit for the feline gods. I'm sure Queen can smell it by the way she's actually clinging to my leg as I try to deliver the gourmet meals to the basement, but I stay strong. No matter how adorably she mews or how bright her eyes shine, I'm resolute in my destination.
After all, mama cat will find a way to claw us both if we're late.
Laden with food in my arms, an amusing thought in my head, and a desperately whining kitten on my pant leg, I move through the peace in my house smiling all the way.
Author's Notes: I think Anna needs a calm chapter, so I gave her one. Its quite a shame since I'm going to love pushing her buttons soon. *Evil Cackling*
Vinzgirl, I'm grateful you always find time to leave a supportive reply and am glad you liked the last chapter. I hope I can continue to amuse and entertain somewhat well.
As always, comments, concerns, and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is always welcomed.
So, until next time, Au revoir.