The Mister has a very good job. A job he has worked hard over many years to get and to be secure in. He has held positions along the way that were neither fun nor lucrative, but he climbed the ladder and is in a position most others have to have degrees in the field to get into; he just has a world of experience.
His job comes with a pension, four weeks plus of vacation and more important perhaps than any of that, it comes with security. If he tires of his exact position, he can move within government jobs to something more to his liking without losing seniority, vacation or benefits. It's a good gig, and he has worked hard to get it.
The downside, and there's always downsides with any job, is that he goes to work at 3 or 4 in the morning, sometimes six days a week. To be honest, our differing schedules was a point of concern before we got married. How do we create a family life and schedule when I get home at 5 and he is headed to bed by 8? But people do stranger things and we knew we'd find a way.
To be honest, we have found his schedule to be quite a blessing. He is off around noon every day, and can sometimes leave even earlier. This has made him Flash's personal taxi service on half days, and days when he has a meeting after school. The Mister is home in time to putter around the house without interruption. He can spend a few hours doing all the things men love to do without the supervision or interference of a woman.
But there is another way in which we are blessed in all of this, a blessing that is perhaps a marriage saver. You see, The Mister wakes before his alarm even sounds. He is a shower-after-work kind of a guy, so within fifteen minutes of his feet hitting the floor, they are hitting the accelerator of his Jeep. He dresses for warmth, not fashion, so he lays out his clothes the night before and doesn't even turn on a light in the early hours of morning. While I am awake during this time, it is brief and quiet.
On the other hand, when I get up, nearly two hours later, I do not go about mornings peacefully. I am an obsessive snoozer. I hit that button more times than should be legal some mornings, putting off the inevitable. When I finally do rise, I do it grudgingly. Don't dare talk to me. Don't even try to make eye contact. I am not happy to be up and I am not happy to see the morning arrive. I am noisy in the bathroom. I run the shower and the hair dyer. I go up and down the stairs to warm or dewrinkle clothes in the dryer. I futz around I the closet figuring out what to wear. My mood is as grouchy as the room is bright with lights. Flash has always known this and thankfully, God graced me with an easy going, independent child who rises without issue and is out the door with merely a shout up the stairs.
The Mister is blissfully unaware of my morning reluctance, and I am forever grateful that our start times occur in the order they do for our jobs. If not, just two weeks in, he might be reconsidering the whole "till death -or mornings with Eliza - do us part".