Anyway, this morning routine is not done without help, however. ( Special thanks goes to my hubby, Paulie for humoring me and my crazy ways.) First, before I wake up, hubby wakes up and MAKES MY COFFEE. This is essential, because , quite frankly, I am not even functional to measure my own grounds in the morning. Then, while I am still snoozing, hubby cleans the kitchen, makes the kiddies breakfast, and wakes them up. (If you haven't figured it out yet, hubby is a saint, that I do not thank enough.)
You may wonder, "What, dear Annie, do you do if he is doing all of the essentials?"
At this point in the morning, I have done nothing, which is about all I can handle. Finally, I drag my body down the stairs where hubby is waiting with a blanket and my coffee in hand. With a kiss and and a "Good Luck!" hubby leaves me, and I am on my own. My first thought - warm up the car! Quickly, I run outside in my pjs and slippers, dodging patches of ice, and my neighbors' stares as they leave for work, and I start my car. Just as quickly, I run back inside to tackle the rest of the morning.
So, after downing my first cup of joe, I hustle kiddies into their clothes. Many a day, socks have been unmatched, and at times, underwear have been forgone. My philosophy . . . who cares? No one sees those particular pieces of clothing. They can slide. Teeth are brushed, hair . . . well, let's just say that I have delegated that chore, and both my 7 and 4 year old are responsible for their own tresses. Easy enough for a boy with a military do, but not so easy with a girl whose locks resembles Gene Wilder's mane, on a good day. No matter! I say, let them take responsibility! Let them take ownership! (Translated: I am slack-ass and it is one less thing for me to do.)
While the kiddies are donning all of their winter gear, I dash up the stairs to get myself dressed. Now, here is one of my last brilliant steps. I do not remove my pajamas. Instead, I take one of my exercise warm ups, and then put it directly over my sleep attire. So technically, I am dressed, but I am also still in my pjs. Semantics, I know, but there is just something about it. It is a mindset, I suppose. I feel like, if I have to be up in the real world than at least I can do it on my terms. I am still deliciously cozy, and I feel like I am keeping a juicy secret. Frankly, what mom wouldn't want to stay in her pjs as long as possible?
Finally, I load the kiddies up into a WARM car. (yeah, I know . . . I am contributing to global warming . . . but when it is 7 degrees . . . I can not sit in a frigid car. Blame it on my Florida upbringing. I'll recycle more and hope it will even out in the end. ) As my seat heater warms up my pj covered fanny, I can smile and know that I have survived another crazy morning.
It's the little things that make my day. Coffee, wearing pjs, and a heated seat. That's not too much to ask, is it?