Mornings

When I worked outside of the home, my mornings consisted of 60 minutes of torture to get the kids dressed, fed and out the door followed by my commute to work. While those 60 minutes were sometime hellish, I knew that my time was soon coming so I suffered through with little complaint. I savored my morning commute. It was 30 minutes of me time. Time to reflect, time to recharge, time to jam out, time to enjoy the silence, time to not have to talk or deal with anyone. Now don't get me wrong, I genuinely like people and my children. I think I just would prefer them in smaller doses.

My mornings now consist of the same 60 tortuous minutes filled with different battles. Me battling to wake up as I stay up way too late so I can have some time to look for work, read to keep my mind sharp, watch television shows that aren't cartoons are feature some furry animal. It also includes the battle of waking my son who seems to whine more and more these days. Once he does rise from his slumber, he is grumpy, non cooperative and moves slower than any human being I know. I wonder if he does it intentionally knowing it drives me crazy. I like to move fast. He will drop to the ground in a fit of whiny convulsions if I even mention the words, 'hurry up.'

Now while he is having a devil of a time getting motivated to move faster than a snail in slow motion, the girls are demanding to be fed immediately lest they wither away and die from starvation. After all, it's been 11 hours since they last fed their needy bodies. This is occurring in harmony with the dog who is jumping in circles in the air, crying and running up and down the stairs at mock 10 to get noticed in case I 'forget' to feed her breakfast.

Every step of the way is painful. Each activity - dressing, putting on shoes, brushing teeth - is started with a whimper or whine. It's like finger nails down a chalk board for me. Truly. This morning, Gage was whimpering in the bathroom after I asked him to brush his teeth.

Me: What is wrong, Gage?
Gage: It's just so difficult!
Me (thinking): How can brushing your teeth be difficult?!?!?!
Me (saying): What is so difficult, honey?
Gage: Life.
Me: You have no idea.

And that pretty much sums it up. What an insightful little boy! And to think that whole process was only 30 minutes long! I'll save sharing the next 30 minutes for another time. When I do finally get through that hour of sour, I manage to get the rest of the clan out the door - either to the gym or coffee shop. I pity the fine people at Starbuck's or LA Fitness that see me on occassion after surviving the morning wars. I enter, hair disheveled, crooked smile with god-knows-what kind of outfit on. If they only knew what I endured to get there with no jam session, silence, reflection or recharge. It's a scary sight.