This past Easter, I found myself in a conversation with some family members about our morning routines. When asked what time I leave the house, I replied, “Oh, around 8:10-8:15ish. But at the latest, 8:15, or everyone will be super late.” My response was met with guffaws. Literally. Guffaws from my questioners. “Oh, Wow! Oh, Geeze! That’s LATE! HAH!”
Late? Really? Like, did they think I just sleep in until around 7:45, roll out of bed, stumble into the shower, throw some clothes on, grab my bag and go? Yeah… That’s how I do it. Um, did they remember that I have two tiny children? One of whom is still in diapers, sleeping in a crib, and is still cutting a few more teeth? Children who have not quite mastered the art of self-waking, dressing themselves in appropriate school clothes, preparing a sensible breakfast (which may or may not include leftover pizza or re-heated chocolate chip pancakes), and lining up single file by the door in their jackets Sound of Music Von Trapp Family style?
Mmmhmmm… About that.
This conversation got me thinking. I found myself in one of those George Costanza moments where it was killing him that he didn’t shoot out a good comeback to a dig directed at him during one of his work meetings. Actually, that Seinfeld epi was entitled, “The Comeback.” In case you haven’t seen it, here’s a recap- When one of his co-workers notices George stuffing himself with shrimp cocktail at a meeting, he says: “Hey George, the ocean called; they’re running out of shrimp!” (George was met with guffaws, too). George couldn’t think of a comeback until later in the day, and when he finally did, he produced the following to dismal reviews: “Well, the Jerk Store called, and they’re running out of you!”
So in my own little form of a Comeback, I decided to show you all what my super glamorous and indulgent “Late Mornings” look like. Take a lesson, working moms everywhere! You TOO can indulge in a late weekday morning! Super Glam!
5:50 a.m.- iPhone alarm goes off and tells me to get my butt out of bed and onto the treadmill. I slowly wake up while reviewing my J.Crew, Stew Leonard’s, and Oriental Trading sale e-mails, and scroll through my Instagram, and Facebook newsfeeds. GOTTA STAY PLUGGED IN- it’s the only way.
6:20 a.m.- NBC Connecticut morning show tries their damnedest to bring perky into my morning. I’m not feeling so perky as I pound out 5 miles on the treadmill, but as the 7:00 hour of the Today Show chimes in, I’m feeling more like a human, and less like a zombie slug. After 5 miles of sweat and 6 local weather updates, it’s back upstairs.
7:15 a.m.- I am greeted by a sleepy and adorably irresistible bed-headed Jake. I pour him a cup of milk, offer him no less than 5 choices for breakfast, get on that, and assemble his, and Livvy’s lunch boxes for school. (I’ve already put in the non-refrigerables the night before, so now I’ll just add in yogurts, juice boxes, fruit, a cheese sandwich, and heat up mac & cheese before zipping the lunch boxes shut).
7:25 a.m.- Husband comes out of the shower, and we try not to get in each other’s way while we grab clothes in our dressing room, and I jump in the shower.
7:45 a.m.- Showered, teeth brushed, dressed, and makeup on. Oh wait- that’s just me- one kid is still in his PJs eating Nutella on bread watching morning cartoons with Daddy, and the other half of the twosome is still blissfully sleeping in a nest of stuffed animals and blankies in her warm, room-darkened room. JEALOUSY.
7:55 a.m.- Husband, bless his heart, has loaded up my car with my lunch, the kids’ lunches, and has attempted to dress Jake. Today is a big win for me- he managed to get Jake’s shirt on with minimal bribes and persuasion! I quickly wiggle off the rest of his pajamas, slide him into his jeans, socks, and lace up his Allstars. Onward, and upstairs to wake Sleeping Beauty.
8:00 a.m.- Oh, Hey Girlfriend!!! I sing as I pull up her shades. Good MORNING, Girlfriend!!! I greet my girl with a sippy cup of cold milk, and she gives me a smile that you just croon over. “Mee Mee!!!! She squeals!” (Yes. I’m Mee Mee). I scoop her up, and one of her 16 stuffed animals from her crib, dress her, and head back downstairs to hand her breakfast- graham crackers, half of a peanut butter sandwich, or she simply helps herself to whatever Jake has not finished of his breakfast. During my victory lap, I press “start” on the Kurig, and make a dash to collect two small children and herd them into the kitchen as the nectar of the Gods drips into my Mickey Mouse coffee thermos. I zip the kids up in their fleece jackets, and damn, are we finished yet, because I’m exhausted already!?
8:15 a.m.- Jake has finally been herded into the car, after running a few laps around the front yard, driveway, and garage in search of sticks and rocks for his collections, and Livvy is buckled into her car seat, concentrating really hard on her breakfast, and holding on to her stuffed animal sheep with a death grip. Are we there yet? Is it over yet? Can I look now? What just happened? How many fingers am I holding up???
8:20 a.m.- If I’m lucky, we have avoided the simi-regular conversation of, “Mommy! Can I bring in doughnuts for my class??!!” and we are about to pull into the preschool parking lot. I feel like I’ve run a half marathon, and I haven’t even reached my desk at work yet. Most mornings, if given the choice, I think I would actually choose half marathon. This is more like a Tough Mudder without the electric shocks and leech-infested puddles of mud. Well, it could be like a Tough Mudder if you count the smears of Nutella that I now have on the forearms of my once-pristine J.Crew field jacket…
So there you have it. My luxurious late morning of beauty sleep, relaxing with a hot cup of coffee, and watching the morning news in my bathrobe. Jealous Much, or Comeback of the century?