Early Risin'

I think Owen must have a built-in Mommy sensor. Somehow he is able to tell when I get up in the morning. It doesn't matter if I use an alarm or not, if I tiptoe or softly shuffle, if I leave all lights off, if I forego coffee because of the noise from the bean grinder and if I don't use the toaster oven because of its loud DING!! I think he reads my mind.

Don't get me wrong--I love my kids and I like being around them, mostly. But usually the first thing I want to do in the morning is to eat a quiet bowl of cereal and have a great cup of coffee. Ideally I would read my Bible, plan my day and maybe even get dressed and start on my work while my kids would sleep peacefully on.

This morning I thought it was going to happen--The Morning I Get a Lot of Work Done Before the Kids Awake. I fed Jack, then put him down to play. I poured my plain shredded wheat with a few grape-nuts on top--yep, I'm a mixer. My Bible fell open to 2 John, the command to love others. Three bites in, I heard a pitter-patter of little feet and a perky "Hi, Mom!" And can I say it? I can say it. My annoyance meter sky-rocketed.

I fed him breakfast in the basement while I did computer work. He didn't eat well. He said his tummy hurt. He whined for milk in a straw cup. He interrupted me multiple times. He fiddled with the computer speaker. He needed to go #2. He washed his hands and played with the water so violently it soaked his face and shirt and the floor. Then he was placed firmly on a couch with a stack of books and a time limit, which was semi-successful.

So...what's a good way to handle mornings for a momma who ain't a mornin' person at all?

Another Helping of Insanity, with a Little Crazy on the Side

Two days before Christmas, Jason had carpal tunnel surgery on his right wrist. We made it through Christmas with his one-handedness, even hosting out-of-town guests and holding a Christmas morning brunch for the extended family. We had a LOT of help from Uncle Phil, Aunt Twila, Jonathan and Andrew!

As our company pulled out of the drive, I wiped Owen's tears, then said to Jason, "I'm ready for you to get over this surgery, already."

"I can tell you are," he replied.

"Oh really? I didn't know I was so transparent."

"The first day, you were so nice. You kept bringing me drinks and ice and asking if there was anything else I needed....and then it stopped."

Well.....ahem.

Yesterday afternoon, a poopy diaper on Jack interrupted my busyness. I dropped the overflowing, slimy, yellow mess into the trashcan because I didn't have time to origami-fold it into the smallest, tightest wad I could. I ran back to the kitchen to work on my time-sensitive soft pretzel dough for another get-together. As I was throwing the Kosher salt on my pretzels, Jason appeared with Jack. He had been investigating the foul smell, and when he found it, asked me why in the world I left such a smelly diaper and didn't finish the take-out.

I didn't handle the question very well. I shoved my irritation for about five minutes while he dumped the diaper in the garage bin, then unloaded as politely as I could. I might have mentioned some things about the kid wrangling, the cooking and the house cleaning I had been doing, without much of his help.

After we got to our destination, and had mingled a bit, he came back with a sheepish smirk. "Well, I guess I got paid back for my comment," he announced. It turns out he noticed something on his shoe, and when he couldn't tell what it was, he wiped his finger in it and smelled it--Jack poo!