I Don't Do Mornings

It's on a coffee mug that my mom gave me years ago. Of course I don't do coffee either, so it's reserved for hot chocolate.

The morning routine at our house is usually a laid back affair. It's because I'm not involved. My children are all awake by 7, me not until 8. How do I pull it off you ask? Don't be jealous, I have a well-trained labor force!

Alli is up and out the door bright and early at which time Kathryn starts chanting Let me out, because remember she has a high security system in place to make sure she remains in her room. Abby goes to fetch the little darling, brings her downstairs, gives her juice and breakfast, and puts on Little Einsteins. Abby leaves for the bus which is the time that Emma's alarm clock goes off. She wakes up very grumpily (can't imagine where she gets that from) and puts on her clothes we set out the night before. By this time it is 8, and I have to get up to fix princess breakfast (don't kid yourself it's usually cereal or an Eggo), and change the channel because Handy Manny is stupid! It's a great routine, it works for everyone involved, and it hasn't failed us, YET!

For some reason Friday mornings are just a bad thing for me. Maybe it's because I usually have bad Thursdays. Most people dread Monday, for me it Thursday. I think because the week's activities have caught up with me and I am drained and exhausted. For whatever reason, they just aren't fun. Friday is the one day where we don't have to get up and do anything. Because of this, I do not set Emma's clock, without the annoying beep, the child will sleep til 10, and that's one less for me to have to worry about. So I usually roll out of bed, stumble to the couch, put the appropriate children's television programming on, and snooze, content in the fact that Dora and Diego are great babysitters!!

It's that extra hour on Friday mornings that completely revitalizes me and gets me ready for the jam packed weekend ahead. Just that one precious hour helps so much, and there seems to be an understanding between us that during that hour we will behave and let Mommy sleep, because then good things will happen. Today, the well oiled machine fell apart.

Apparently Abby had failed on her breakfast and juice task, so the minute I achieved maximum comfort on the couch, Kathryn needs to eat. I get up, fix her some pancakes, set her at the table and assume our weekly agreement is in place. She runs out of juice, she wants a sucker, Diego is stupid (when did that happen?), I want to take a bath, can we go to the zoo, give me a snack... Umm, hello, this is not part of the plan. This is not how Friday mornings work. Please refer to page 82 of our parent-child agreement handbook, where it clearly states in BOLD PRINT that Mommy needs an extra hour on Fridays.

I appease the beast ( I think) and try to just get 15 minutes now, really I don't think it's too much to ask. Mommy, can I have some chips? Yes, you can have whatever you want, just don't bother me until Boots gets his hit. I hear her get the bag, sit at the table, cram them down her throat, cough. Are you okay? Yes, I'm okay. 5 minutes, 10 minutes, Boots wins the game, Mommy can I take a bath now? Well of course you can, since you apparently crammed 50 chips down your throat, that wasn't a cough, and Kanga is licking some nastiness off the floor.

I just wanted an hour.

Is it Monday yet?