Why can I NEVER leave the house on time during the
week? Last Saturday I was up, showered,
dressed, and out the door for breakfast before 7:15 a.m. but Monday through
Friday… it’s anyone’s guess as to when the last car seat gets bucked and the
keys go in the ignition. Granted, last
Saturday at 7:15 a.m., Sass Monkey was in the back seat still in his pajamas
and proclaiming loudly that he get “sausage with his pancakes, momma!”, Sprinkles
wasn’t even out of her crib, and Daddy was in the kitchen, brewing coffee… but
still… I felt an accomplished and ready-for-anything
kind of enthusiasm I never feel on a weekday morning. Take this morning, for example. This morning was a free-for-all train-wreck
with battle damage. I was lucky to make
it out with clean hair and underwear.
The worst part is I really do plan the night before. I set out the kids clothes. I pick out my outfit and lay it out. I get lunch as set up as possible (I will not
make a sandwich ahead of time. Soggy bread
is an abomination.). I find my
sunglasses/purse/keys/ect… I fool myself
into thinking I have it together, and then BAM!
I. AM. WRONG.
Sass Monkey looses a shoe. Sprinkles
has a poop-splosion and needs a complete overhaul. Why did I only set out one earring and where
inthenameofallthatisholy is the other one?
I put water in the coffee maker, and I put a filter in the coffee maker,
but I didn’t put any actually COFFEE in the coffee maker? You get the picture. Why does it always de-evolve into one screechy
cluster?
What are your trip-ups in the morning? The snag in your pantyhose? And, if you have a solution, you had better
share it because f*ck-it-all-if I can figure it out. (If you say “Just get up a
bit earlier.”, I will bite you.)
Over and out.
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