Daylight Savings Ass-Dragging

The Husband and I woke up late today, (fucking Daylight Savings) so it was already a rushed morning.

Husband has a great job where a lot of people depend on him, so he had to get out the door rather quickly. No time for our usual morning coffee together. It’s ok. Life happens.

Our daughter woke up from her night’s sleep in our bed shortly after he left. She’s six and has mastered opening our bedroom door in the middle of the night without being heard. She’s obviously descended from some sort of Ninja relative I didn’t know I had, because I never feel her lay down next to me. If she ever wakes before us, the only indication we ever have that she was there is neck and back pain.

Our oldest son woke up next. He is seven and obsessed with watching YouTube videos of people playing Fortnite and screaming. Seriously, why this is a thing, I’ll never understand. But every morning, religiously, he wakes up, uses the bathroom, then opens the Chromebook.

At this point, we now have dueling sounds in the living room. YouTube versus Daughter’s pet salon game she’s playing on her tablet. Honestly, I could put my foot down and declare no electronics in the morning, but it’s so normal now that I just ignore it best I can and finish my coffee.

Little Guy wakes up last. His morning routine is simple: Wake up, change clothes, grab Puppy from bed, watch Daniel Tiger.

I DO try to feed my kids in the morning. I offer cereal, granola bars, toast… Of course, nobody ever wants to eat until it’s time to leave for school.

By 8:30, all three kiddos are dressed and we should be almost ready to leave, but I’m too enthralled with the irony of Daniel Tiger singing “Rest Is Best.” I can’t help but wonder if he somehow knows my coffee cup isn’t yet empty.

Sometime during Daniel’s second verse, one of our dogs, presumably Penny Lane, shit on the kitchen floor. This doesn’t happen too often anymore. She’s still a “baby” but she’s pretty well trained now. I’m honestly too tired from the time change to get angry, but Little Guy walks in behind me, sees it, and yells, “damn!” with a grunt. He’s two, so it’s equally mortifying and hilarious to hear him say this. I pick up the poop with a paper towel and stick it in an empty popcorn bag that was left on the counter. I secretly wonder if it would be funny or just wrong to offer the older two kids some popcorn before we leave.

Despite all the Daylight Savings Ass-Dragging this morning, we somehow make it in the car right on time. I’m thankful for this because my oldest is all about making it to school on time. I’ve never once made him late, but every morning he still swears we are going to be.

School drop off comes and goes and then I’m back in the kitchen, consuming more caffeine as Little Guy eats yogurt and switches from Daniel to Mickey.

I love this time of day.

This is the time where I fully wake up and make my mental list of things I need to accomplish.

Today there are beds to be made, the bathroom needs cleaning, I’ll be frosting a cake for Husband’s birthday…

But first on the list: I should eat something.


We’re out of milk.

Surprisingly, I did NOT wear this yesterday. But I DO wear this an awful fucking lot to school drop off.

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