Life with a bounder

Today as I heard a squeak from the room next door I winced in sadness as I was awakened from my newly acquired state of sleep. Nap time would be over. I rolled over and realized that I couldn't think of the last time I was happy to get out of bed. I have never relished the leaving behind of a cozy state of restful slumber, ensconced in snugly cotton, tucked away safely in my little haven. I always seem to wish it would linger just a few more minutes.

To be fair, I have never been one to bound out of bed in the morning. I remember those childhood school days, with one of my parents first coming in with a gentle stirring and a soft voice calling for me to awaken. It would be followed by perhaps a cheerful morning song. Then a few minutes later I would be confronted with the harsh reality of bright lights being turned on or curtains thrown open to allow streams of sunlight to invade my peaceful room. The dreadful final step would always be the unfurling of my cozy bed, leaving me in a state of quivering chilly, early morning brightness facing the fact that, yes, I would in fact have to get up for school once again.

Contrast this with my husband. I haven't asked specifically for the details of his morning rituals from childhood, but after living with him for almost nine years, I can be pretty certain that he didn't require alot of coaxing to embrace the fullness of the morning. He is so incessantly cheerful about the morning that even now when he gets up at 5:00 - to go to work of all places- he is happy. This sort of morning cheerfulness is very disturbing on so many levels. But the truth is that it is secretly delightful to me. In the very back corners of my soul, past the ominous piles of moodiness and frightful grumpiness, I find that it is not only a continual surprise to find someone so happy, but alot of fun to be married to such a person.

So while I cannot safely recall the last time I bounded out of bed in the morning, I can rest in confidence knowing that my wonderful husband and his two little descendants, will most likely be bounding out of bed at the first crack of dawn tomorrow morning.

*

Life with such people (the kind who bound out of bed in the morning with Tiggeresq jollity) can be very helpful for fending off decrepit bitterness of spirit and keeping one from from becoming a jaded sourpuss.

Just the other day it occurred to me that I may be turning into an old person. We had just returned from Pig Out at the Park, which is a Spokane tradition involving mass amounts of food from a myriad of vendors that represent every possible culinary delight from around the world. In other words, it is a place to spend exorbitant amounts of money on overpriced food while sending your body into a caloric shock of fatty, fried, chocolate-coated foods, all the while being shoved together with teeming masses of humanity trying not to step on one another's toes or permanently misplace your friends and family members.

As we arrived home I was ruminating upon the evening of excitement, and I was thinking, "What is the point of such chaos?" It's so expensive, so annoying to constantly be searching for the people you love, so frustrating to eat so much food that you are uncomfortable and then finally walk by a great stand only to realize that it's too late. You have no money or room in your gut left to try the one delicacy you had been waiting all your life for. For all practical purposes I had become my mother. I was thinking practically.

While I used to think fondly of such events with glimmers of stardust in my eyes, envisioning all the community togetherness and joyous fondness of frolicking in the park with people enjoying the bond of shared supping, now I had become a practical thinker. "I could just go to Azar's and buy this same Gyro for less money and eat it in a civilized place with tables, and no one stepping on any of my body parts."

Lo, just in the nick of time I was saved from my practical thoughts by my husband. Later that same night he was remarking how he grew up not appreciating such events. He said in this area, his ancestry was "somewhat relationally retarded" (his words - not mine) in that they did not see value in spending money on things that were not practical. He continued that he was learning to enjoy such events and see how they bring the community together and make people proud to call Spokane their home. (I didn't mention the obvious inconsistency between linking any event with "Pig" in the title and being proud of your community.) Before I had even expressed my negative thoughts about fighting crowds and overspending - he had reverted my viewpoint back to the optimistic and bright eyed views of my childhood.

So now, when we go to the fair, instead of complaining about the overspending and fruitlessness of our trip, I will be gazing around with eyes bright looking at all the community togetherness and family bonding.

Although, sometimes I wonder what the benefit is to my husband of being married to a perpetually sceptical and easily dismayed individual, I can safely say that for myself, it pays to stick with a bounder.