I remember my sister in law, Casey, telling me about her mornings with her young son. They would have coffee and snuggles, she said. They would sit on the couch, and watch TV, and, well, just sit there. It sounded glorious. When I became a stay at home mom, I looked forward to these mornings, all of them lined neatly in a row on my calendar. No silly work days to interfere with those quiet, relaxing moments with my babies. No rushing around the house to get ready for day care. It would be just us and our pajamas.
I’d like to sue Casey for false advertising, but I don’t think I’d win in a court of law. My moments are the antithesis of what she described. This morning, for example:
Justin is “quietly” getting ready for work. I am dozing in and out, as I hear Harrison’s little voice coming from his room. I am in no hurry to get out of bed, as I was up with him several times in the night. Despite his sickness in the dark hours, he is now babbling happily, and full of energy.
Coming from Ella’s room, I hear bouncing springs, which means she is jumping on her bed. Justin floats in and picks her up out of her bed. Then he sets her down beside me, allowing her to cry that Mommy is not up and at ‘em. So, I swing my legs out of bed and my feet have not hit the floor when Harrison waltzes in asking for pancakes.
At this point, I am just dreaming of my coffee that has not yet been made. I pick up Ella and notice that she’s soaking wet. How did Justin not notice this? Then I realize that I’m sure he did but that sucker snuck out the door before I could notice. So, before I brush my teeth, and still very far away from my coffee, I change the little one, pajamas and all, and head to the bathroom.
But no, she is screaming at the top of her lungs for milk. Once I finally have that taken care of, and have gotten to brush my teeth, I head back into the kitchen for my coffee. My sweet, sweet coffee.
“Pancakes, mama! I want pancakes, please!”
So at this point I have managed to get the coffee pot turned on. Great progress.
While I prepare for pancakes, I notice that my dear and loving husband has left some dishes in the sink, and it’s before 6 am. How did he even manage that? There’s remains of last night’s dinner in the drain. The dishwasher didn’t run for some reason. I’m stepping on crumbs. Whose job is it to keep this place clean, anyway? Oh, crap. It’s me.
As soon as I get the pan on the stove, Harrison has his first nervous break down of the day. This is not abnormal, but it is a little earlier than usual. Today’s crisis is that his blanket keeps slipping off of his chair. A total meltdown occurs over a slippery blanket, get this, slipping off of the chair. I fix the blanket, and put the kid on the blanket so it doesn’t slip anymore. I even convinced him that he couldn’t move a muscle or the whole operation would go under. And he believed me. I had a kid sitting still but I still didn’t have coffee.
The pancakes are now cooking on the pan, so I turn to make my coffee. I’ve forgotten to turn on the vent, so the smoke alarm starts going off. This happens every single time I do anything cooking related in the kitchen, so Ella grabs her blanket and starts waving it in the direction of the smoke alarm. Both kids know that we wave a towel in front of the alarm to quiet it once it goes off and they are fully trained. Once the noise quiets down, Ella and I look at each other with satisfaction, because, together, we have diverted a crisis.
It is now time to put my K-Cup in the Keurig, and all I have left to do is push the button. It’s at this time that I smell something stinky. I rush over to find out who the culprit is. As I said, Harrison has been sick, so this could be a major problem. After checking diapers and underpants, I realize that it was a false alarm. I can now push the button on my coffee maker, and the familiar, eye opening smell of coffee starts filling the room.
“Mom, I have to go stink.”
Off we rush to the bathroom so he can do his business. At this point, Ella decides it would be a fantastic time to empty out my make up drawer, so I am simultaneously throwing mascara and blush back in place while holding Harrison on the toilet. Even though I haven’t lost any makeup on this trip to the bathroom, Harrison is in a tither because he has pee on his leg. I’m in a tither because there is pee on the floor. Ella is in a tither because she doesn’t have any makeup to play with. We managed to leave the bathroom alive.
Finally, the pancakes are made. Coffee is in the cup. Kids are eating. Now, if I can only take a sip…but guess who wants to snuggle??