In my last post – my attack on sticky floors and dirty ovens – I may have left you with the impression that I am a fastidious “neat freak” who really has his act together. In reality, this is pretty far from the truth, but I can’t help be at least somewhat organized. We have six people living in 1,200 square feet – without some semblance of order, things quickly get out of control. If you don’t believe I’m not the male equivalent of Martha Stewart, read on, and let me tell you about my morning.
Ever have one of those mornings?
“Daddy, the light’s green,” my oldest admonished me. I am often woken up this way because I frequently sleep through my alarm clock. I keep the volume down because the baby sleeps in our room. My daughter is referring to her “stop light” alarm clock that turns green when it’s time to get up. I said, “OK,” and got out of bed myself. This is when I noticed the kitchen was unusually bright. It was 7:15. We ordinarily get up at 6:40.
“Oh, crap,” I said. Both daughters looked at me, puzzled, as I remembered I hadn’t picked out their clothes the night before OR made their lunches. (My wife is right…I really should ALWAYS do this stuff the night before.) The bus will be pulling up in 15 minutes and both girls are both notoriously slow (and cranky) in the morning.
After they used the bathroom, both girls were dispatched upstairs to dress themselves while I made their lunches. I had just finished making their sandwiches and realized I needed to run to the basement for juice boxes when they bounced down the stairs in utterly ridiculous ensembles. Despite the blizzard conditions, Cailin had obviously chosen a short-sleeved shirt, leggings, and a skirt. At least she was also wearing snow boots. Kylie’s outfit was more seasonably appropriate, a mashup of pink and purple.
I headed to the basement and told them they were on their own for brushing their teeth. Ordinarily, either Amy or I still take a turn after they do. I don’t know if that’s typical, but their dentist seems happy, so we’re sticking with it for now.
So, what does Father of the Year do after making them dress themselves and brush their own teeth? I fed them yogurt for breakfast. Yep, just yogurt – no eggs, no waffles, no oatmeal, not even anything to drink. By the time we’d gotten that far, the bus was due to be pulling up in literally one minute. I figured any breakfast was better than nothing.
The last step was trying to make sense of Kylie’s hair while keeping one eye out the front window, in expectation of the bus. She’d slept in a ponytail and I tried to brush it out and conceal the bump with a headband. Poor kid. Cailin had slept in pigtails that were more or less intact – elastics and clips and all. I didn’t touch them. Finally, three minutes late, they finished breakfast, got their coats and backpacks on and stood at attention at the front door for the bus, watching the snow fall.
…And the bus was 20 minutes late.
But, hey, we’re parents, and that’s life, right? What’s your most ridiculous morning in recent memory?