Once, I saw the biggest mess made out of a morning routine and I still called it successful.
And, well, that was yesterday, and it was our mess. Here is how it went down;
5:30: I woke up 30 minutes before I needed to wake up so that I had a few minutes of alone time before the spectacle of children were due to arise.
6:01: I thought hopefully about making myself a hot beverage to enjoy during my 15 minutes of alone time.
6:02: Because my toddler has the super-senses of the Common Barn Owl, she knew the second I tried to sneak downstairs, even though I was wandering around in the dark with my phone flashlight like a criminal.
6:02: I stopped suddenly, like the criminal that I was, to see if maybe she would fall back asleep.
6:03: She did not. “Mama! Mama! Wake! Wake!” She was oddly cheerful for as tired as she should have been from hollering all night in her aimless search for her
life crutch binky. I felt afraid that her cheerfulness would backfire if I actually accepted it.
6:05: I put said toddler onto and off of the potty for the remainder of the morning, feeling only slightly bad that she must have been freezing to the toilet seat because of the subarctic temperatures that my husband insists upon for sleeping.
6:05: I only felt slightly bad because her cheerfulness was beginning to backfire (as I suspected it would) after our heated Pull-Up Character Negotiations and after being thwarted from her obsessive hand-washing.
6:45: After I got myself ready, because I was especially late, and because it was garbage day, my dormant OCD kicked in and I suddenly needed to organize all the bills and clean out the fridge.
7:00: I woke up my older child and thanked whoever is in charge of doling out kids that there is one person in my family who wakes up in a good mood. I remembered that I must be nice to people so that karma will continue to allow him to be this way throughout his teen years.
7: 05: I rushed around in my food services role. Eventually, everyone in the family was fed, watered, lunched, snacked, including our dog. Well, except for me. I did manage to make the hot beverage, since caffeine is a priority for staying alive.
7:25: Five minutes before the bus was due to arrive, my older child remembered a very important thing that must be signed and paid for and that he needed to find his library book because it was library day and that he needed to bring a helmet to school because it was ice-skating day and that he simply needed to have his very special markers and very special notebook for the bus and possibly he asked me to bake a batch of cookies and wrap a few presents, it’s all sort of a blur.
7: 28: I then turned into super Mom and found, baked, signed, wrapped everything, because I seriously didn’t have time to make an extra trip to school when there is a very convenient bus that will pick the child up if he can only make it there on time. With help from his Dad, who may or may not have just stumbled out of bed, he makes it.
7:30: Attempted to explain to the toddler that her Dad was going to take her to her nanny that day. She accepted this change of schedule with a cheerful “Okay!” so I knew she didn’t get it. And I really hoped that I wasn’t around when she did get it.
7:35: Went outside to warm the car up. In my toddler’s frantic need to have me within her line of site at all times, she twisted the knob of the door around and around, trying to get out…and…locked me out of the house. While the boys are at the bus stop. This seriously happened.
7:36: Tried to explain the mechanics of the door to the toddler for about 5 seconds until I remembered that she didn’t even really understand me when I said, ‘Daddy is taking you to your nanny today.” I panicked for a few seconds until I remembered that I let the dog out upstairs earlier! Sent out hopeful thoughts that the door would still be unlocked.
7:37: Got inside the house. OMG, thank goodness, that would have been a seriously embarrassing conversation with some professional-type person.
7:45: Gave my toddler a hug goodbye, and made sure she had her daily accoutrements in clear, visible site so that her dad would remember them. The toddler had actually managed to put her coat and backpack on and was following me to the door, confirming my theory that she did not understand that I was not taking her to the nanny. She gave me a hug. She said “Bye, Mommy!” And then as I opened the door to leave, it was like she suddenly understood that we weren’t, in fact, at the babysitter’s yet and she would have to put her life in the hands of…her father. Who is, a wonderfully competent human being and whose only shortcomings are that, he isn’t me. It was dramatic. I escaped.
7:46: I drove down the driveway to go to work. Possibly a little more gleefully than is acceptable. My hot beverage was still luke-warm, thus I considered the morning an incredible success.
This post was brought to you by Finish the Sentence Friday (FTSF). The Sentence was “Once, I saw the biggest…” Please visit FTSF blog hop hosts:
Stephanie at Mommy for Real
Kristi From Finding Ninee
Janine from Janine’s Confessions of Mommyholic