I am definitely NOT a morning person. This morning began at about 6:30 with Hudson climbing into my bed and digging his little feet into my back, pushing me over in between the pillows. We were joined a few minutes later by Gracie, who proceeded to climb on top of Hudson, which caused a little scuffle and consequently MORE little feet digging in my back. All the while, I am thinking to myself, “Why don’t I just get up? They aren’t going to stop until I do…” But no, I squeezed my eyes shut and mumbled something to the effect of “Please stop kicking me.” Finally, after about 15 minutes of futility, I gave in to shouts of “Yay! Yay! Mommy’s up! Let’s go downstairs!”
Make a cup of juice, a cup of chocolate milk, a bowl of cereal, turn on cartoons, start the coffee. Empty the sink that somehow magically fills up while I sleep… Sit down to check email/facebook/twitter and wait on the coffee that takes entirely too long to brew on Mondays. Gracie starts yelling something about her wet pull-up (potty training is a “whole ‘nother” story altogether, and I will NOT be writing about it today.) Hudson starts whining about the dart gun (one that is entirely too big and too difficult for a 3 yr old to operate, which is, in fact, why he loves it so much.) And I just want to scream “Can all of this just wait until I’ve had at least 2 cups of coffee?? Please??” And I am really tempted to go down that irritable path. Really. Tempted.
I stop myself just long enough to think of what I want them to remember about Mom when they are grown… And I don’t want their description of me to be “She was definitely NOT a morning person.”
So I am deciding right now that at least for this morning, I will be cheerful. I will be fun. I will play with dart guns and baby dolls and maybe even play-doh. Maybe. After one more cup of coffee.