Every morning, I wake up around 6 a.m. I get up, rub my eyes, go downstairs to brush my teeth and wait as my husband does the same. Then, together, we head into the nursery to pick up our son, who may or may not be awake. One of us changes his diaper while the other pours the coffee. Then we head into the living room, where there are several boxes of toys. I pick up my laptop and sift through e-mails while Joe has a sip of coffee then goes into the kitchen to make breakfast for the baby, who patiently plays with his toys until it's time to get into his highchair.
This morning ritual continues on with various tasks for about an hour-and-a-half. Then I head off to work, and Joe follows shortly after with the baby in tow, dropping him off at daycare before making his way to his office. This has been the structure of our mornings for a long time now, and there is something very comforting about knowing exactly how your day is going to start out. But I think what has become the most comforting is knowing we both have someplace to work every day. In this economy, not everyone does.