In our house, I am the morning person. I’m up at five on Tuesdays and Thursdays so as to be in the pool at 5:30. I have been known to get up at 4:30 on the occasional Saturday if it means getting in the pool early enough to have my own lane. Plus it’s actually easier to get in the pool at five on a Saturday than 8:15. 8:15 means feeding the kiddos first and sneaking out the door when they aren’t looking. Also, in an effort to get back into running more regularly, I just agreed to meet a friend at 5:15 on Fridays. The morning is quiet. There are rarely children up and about calling “Mooooommm? Mom? Mommy?” I get time to work out and have it be done before I get entrenched in my day. But sometime, just sometimes, morning and I don’t agree.
Take the other morning, for example. I vaguely remember getting up around four or four-thirty to pee and then getting back in to bed. The next thing I know, it’s just after seven and Big Man is leaning over me trying to wake me. I can hear that the kiddos are already awake. They sound happy and bubbly. I am grumpy and miserable for absolutely no reason at all. There was no wild and crazy late night last night. I am just miserable for the sake of being miserable. I think I call Big Man “stupid” just for waking me up. He is one lucky guy.
I honestly don’t remember how I get myself dressed and get downstairs, but I manage it and the kiddos get breakfast out of me. Coffee. Must have coffee. And then, distraction. Normally I would go about packing Ladybug’s lunch and snack for school while the coffee brews, but this particular morning I have strong sense of urgency that is telling me to do all of the breakfast dishes before making a bigger mess. This of course, sets the whole process back and I barely get Ladybug out the door in time to wait for the bus.
The bus. Standing at the bottom of the driveway waiting for the bus, I am suddenly thankful that there is no bus stop and no other parents to see me. Now that I have my coffee in hand and a few sips in me, I realize just what I look like. One. Hot. Mess. Medusa would run the other way if she saw me. My hair is in a crazy ponytail and I had thrown in a headband as if it would actually cover that haphazard mess trying to sneak out of the ponytail holder. I am wearing a brown tunic that covers my butt with a tan turtleneck sweater that stops at the hip. I am wearing blue boot cut yoga pants, that are tucked in to my shearling boots, almost pegged, 80’s style. Thank God everyone I know in town is standing at some other bus stop, somewhere else. A big pair of Jackie O sunglasses still might help, though.
As the bus pulls down the street, I can’t help wondering if school bus drivers send their own emails with pictures of scary moms in the morning, like the “People of Walmart” emails that go around every once in a while. If so, I don’t want to see the pictures my kids’ bus driver has taken of me…