The every-morning marathon

By Kristen Pind

Mornings at my house are like running a marathon. The alarm goes off and up I go running into the day with a list of 1,000 things that need done while my husband rolls over, yawns, stretches, and meanders over to the closet to get dressed.

I rush to let the dogs out, pack school lunches, feed the cat, make sure all permission slips and homework sheets are signed, and somewhere in there find time to make myself a cup of coffee. I stare blankly at the closet trying to remember if I wore that dress in the last two weeks, checking my watch to see that I only have 45 of my 90 minutes remaining. I grab the first thing in my closet, rush to the bathroom to straighten my hair while my husband wakes the kids.

Max gently opens the door to their bedroom, lovingly looks at our babies, and quietly whispers "time to get up." 15 minutes later when no one has actually moved, I barrel in the door, throw on the light and tell everyone to get up or face the consequences. The Princess looks at me with her big brown eyes and says, "But today is the weekend" even though it is Tuesday. In the early morning in her four-year-old wisdom she thinks she can convince me that she turned back time and it is again Saturday. The stinky seven-year-old just continues to snore loudly and ignore everyone. I look at my watch and realize that I only have 20 of my 90 minutes left and run out of the kids' room to actually put on pants and maybe eat something before I have to run out the door.

Five minutes later I'm screaming at Cooper to get dressed or go to school in his underwear, as Max is ushering Felicity out the door with a Pop-Tart, and I'm inhaling a breakfast burrito with my now cold coffee. Then as Max pulls out of the driveway I chase him down with the lunch he forgot for himself and his cell phone in my house slippers as Cooper cries about how tired he is and rolls around the floor in his underwear. Then we actually leave the house a whole 15 minutes later than we should and we all rush to get where we need to go in less time than is possible.

This is my life, EVERY morning. I've tried getting up at 5:30 a.m. and 5 a.m. instead of 6:15 a.m., I've tried packing lunches the night before, I've tried getting the kids up 20 minutes earlier, I've tried dressing myself before I worry about anyone else, nothing seems to work. I wish we could be one of those stock photo families you see eating a healthy breakfast of granola, fresh fruit, and eggs at a table in the morning laughing about the day to come, but this is real life.

I've come to terms with the fact that we will never be that stock family. Our mornings will be filled with tears, raised voices, and a rushed breakfast of processed chemicals and I'm ok with that because as I drop my son off at school and hold his hand up to the front door worrying that the episode we had five minutes ago will ruin his day he turns and looks at me with those big blue eyes and says, "I love you mommy, have a great day" and in that moment all is right in the world.