I hate mornings.

Wow. I hate mornings so much. Well, not mornings in particular. I just hate the waking up part. Well, I hate the waking up because kids are screaming at each other part.Seriously, though, I basically hate my life between the hours of 7 and 9 every day. Maybe that sounds a little intense, but seriously, it’s the worst.

I worked yesterday so I went to bed around 1, and it took me awhile to fall asleep. Some mornings the kids do actually get out bed quietly, take care of each other, and then come wake me up at around 7:30 with a sweet, soft, “Mom? It’s time to wake up.”

Most mornings, though, are more like this:

I’m woken up by a four year old who climbs into my bed whispering, “Don’t make me go back to my room, Mom.” I don’t mind the cuddles, but she usually starts asking me random questions when I’m trying to fall back asleep, and that’s not my favorite.

I hear Seth come up the stairs, so I shoo Ivy out of bed to go eat breakfast with Seth. Lately her thing is to just make loud noises repeatedly until someone feeds her. Ben is already eating and absolutely refuses to interrupt his breakfast to pour a bowl of dry cereal for his sister. Or Seth DOES NOT “do honey” if she’s asking for toast. Whatever her simple request is, the boys seem to get some joy out of saying no to her. So then her loud noises turn to yells, and screams, and tears, and then she runs back to me where she tells me how rude her brothers are. I holler at them to feed their sister already. I mean, how many thousands of my breakfasts have been interrupted because I had to make the boys breakfast, or second breakfast, or third snack. Their turn.

By the time she’s finally quiet and eating, Oliver finally stumbles out of his bedroom, all squinty eyes looking like he drank too much last night. He’s not a morning person either, and so when Ben tells him he doesn’t know how to make oatmeal, he’s immediately crying. I yell that I’ll be up  in a minute and make him his oatmeal.

When I do finally get out of bed, I’m met with requests for spaghetti and lasagna for school lunches, which is the worst. The smell of marinara and meat sauce at 0730 is really too much for me, but I oblige because I don’t want to be the worst mom ever.

Lunches are finally packed, the kids have unloaded the dishwasher, but Ben still isn’t dressed, and the dog isn’t fed. I still haven’t had time to make coffee and all I really want to do is die.


I wish I was better at doing the mom thing in the morning. Kids, I’m sorry. I want to greet you with a smile and a kiss at 7, but so far I’m not meeting that goal. If you could just leave me alone at least until I finish my first cup of coffee….

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