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.