I hate mornings

This is like saying "Water is a bit damp-ish"

I despise mornings, loathe them, shutter at the thought. And I am not just being dramatic.

I wake up with gritty eyes. My body refuses to obey the thoughts in my head, and the thoughts are scarce. It tastes like something crawled into my mouth...and died. My hair looks as though I have been taste testing light sockets.

This morning started with a shrill and panicked cry from Annabelle, who couldn't seem to find her binky, at a little after 6 am.

I stumble out from beneath the massive pile of warm covers, trip over the dog who is obnoxiously wagging his way down the hall, excited to start his day. I find the rogue binky and try to reason with a hungry, indignant one year old that the day isn't ready to start. She wins. In all his exuberance, Otis' tail thumping the wall manages to rouse the 3 year old. She chirps a "Hi mommy, whats for breakfast?". We have yet to make in down the stairs.

My mood is black, my children hungry. My feet feel leaded. I drop the babe in her chair and chuck a banana in her general direction. I put the open box of cheerios next to Addilyn and mumble some instructions about keeping the baby happy. Off to the shower.

Hot water, warm enough to make my skin shinny pink, starts to take the edge off. I stand under the spray, hoping to feel human. I wash out my mouth, my eyes. I turn off the water, trying hard to be a responsible mother who didn't just throw a banana at the baby. Wrapped in a towel, I sit on the floor. It is a good thing the bathroom doesn't serve coffee or I wouldn't have come out. I throw on a t-shirt.

I open the door to find a child sprawled dramatically in front of it. Everything this child, my eldest, does is dramatic. Words immediately start spilling from her mouth. My brain is still processing at half speed, I try to eek out a reasonable response all the while thinking it is a God with a sick sense of humor to give a person who detests mornings in the fashion I do a child who chats incessantly from the moment her eyes open.

Morning is Matts time with the girls. This is because he would like to see our children survive to see their teen years and him being the one up with them is the best way to secure that. But Matt is gone. Most mornings Matt gets up at the first caterwaul from the babe (and sometimes a foot to the shin to wake him) and I languish in bed. Often I fall back asleep, but I am generally up before everyone has been awake for 2 hours. I like to wake up slowly, letting my body stretch, my brain un-fog.

But this isn't an option. I have hungry children who are ready to start the day. And half the battle is just showing up.