Finding a reason to get out of bed every morning: Can you spell p-u-d-d-i-n-g?

There's nothing better than having something to look forward to the very minute your eyes open in the morning. The last few weeks, I have met each day with a sad, guttural moan and buried my head under the pillow. What if I put a 4th grader on the wrong bus? What if I miss a pertinent step in teaching place value and the repercussions of this error haunts my students for the rest of their lives, preventing them from balancing their checkbooks to the penny or waylaying them from accurately counting back change or calculating a tip? What if I forget to get the necessary paperwork into the school office by the required 8:45 am deadline, triggering an inevitable building lock-down? While sleep may elude me, the real nightmare begins when the alarm clock rings.

But this past Friday was different. Last week, my friends, Amanda, Geri, and Kelly and I had made plans to play a power session of euchre immediately after school. And if that wasn't enough, Kelly and I, trying to pare down our two 20 ounce bottles per day Pepsi consumption, made a deal to abstain all week and then on Friday, she and I would split a bottle to celebrate our success. So finally, for the first time since this school year began, I awoke with a song in my heart, leaping out of bed to greet the day. Euchre and Pepsi! Was it really as simple as all that?

Turns out that it really is pretty simple. Recognizing how miserable I've been lately due to school insecurities and my new self-imposed, semi-rigid diet restrictions, Brad encouraged me to relax a little. "What was your goal again," he asked, as we relaxed in our living room Saturday afternoon. Actually, Brad was relaxing while I was clawing at the walls, sobbing over my snack-free existence. "It's like not living at all," I wailed, rending cloth and tossing ashes over my head. "I'm suppose to lose two pounds a week if I want to meet my stupid goal," I snapped, prowling around the room like a tigress deprived of her fudge-striped zebra snack cake. "Consider this," he said soothingly, "how about if you see if you made your goal first thing in the morning and if you did, we'll have chocolate pudding Sunday night?" I stopped pacing. This wasn't a horrible idea. Two pounds. Pudding. And a week to recover. I went to bed Saturday night, praying so energetically that I may have actually shed a 1/4 pound out of pure supplication. Again, the day dawned, bright and hopeful. I raced to the scale, checked the number and then danced jubilantly around the house. I lost points regarding my priorities but the end result was the same, only tastier. Forget the pounds. This girl was having pudding!

Obviously, this is not a consistent cure-for-all. There will be days that will require a wrecking ball to get me out of bed but perhaps a little premeditative planning would improve my morning disposition. Thursdays were a delight when Grey's was still good. I need to find another show with the power to shape my day. My friend Sarah keeps steering me toward Parks and Recreation. I have a lot to do. Find inspirational television programming. Focus on the positives of each up-coming day rather than getting bogged down and over-whelmed. Quit belly-aching and be thankful for all my blessings and pudding. Tomorrow is another day and I can't wait!