Last night I drive the boys to a scout meeting, then came
home, and pulled youngest off the computer to drive her to gymnastics. Her sister
and I dropped her off, I picked up the boys, dropped them off at home, and took
my oldest to the library for a quick 15
minute scramble to get books before we picked up my youngest at
gymnastics. We came home and my oldest
daughter did her homework. I think I
went to bed after that, I was so tired I don’t remember.
The next thing I know, I hear my husband say, “Shit it’s 6
am,” (He usually gets up at 4.)
For me 6 am is good, it means I slept through the night without
waking up. I get up, get dressed, and go
downstairs with my husband. I make our K-cups,
mine for here, his to go. We chat a
little while he makes scrambled eggs. He
eats half of them, I finish them. Good,
my breakfast is done.
I log the eggs with butter into my Lose-it app and say good
bye as he leaves for work. I get ready
to empty the dishwasher; then grumpily realize my teenager never turned it on
last night when he did the dishes. I turn it on. Then I pack the school snacks for the younger
three kids.
Then I go upstairs to wake up said teenager, who always gets
up at the last minute. My other teenager
is already downstairs making his breakfast. I drive my high schooler's to school
while my oldest eats a slice of chocolate cake in the car.
When I get home I clean up the paper plate he left in the
car, eat the minute cake crumb that got caught on my nail even though it’s not
on my diet. Taste a minute morsel of
sweet. Then clean up the cupcake
wrappers from last night’s scout meeting; they always seem to be eating in the car. Also cleanup a pirate’s booty wrapper, I have
no idea where it came from, because I didn’t buy it. The teenagers are getting around these days...
I get home from the High School drop off and go upstairs. It is now 7:20 am. I go into the girls room, raise the shade,
and sing, “Good Morning to You,” like my mother always did. I tell them they have two minutes to get
dressed and go back downstairs. I spend
the next 45 minutes hustling them along, to get ready, eat breakfast, and I do
their hair.
Then I call, “shoes, coat, backpack,” and get them in the
car. I listen to the two girls argue
with their brother the whole ride to school.
Finally, I drop them off, and stop at the housing authority to bring paperwork
about my tenant. The kids are
gone. Radio. Sunglasses. Music Therapy!
Then I go to work.
