Beep beep beep beep.
A grumble and a groan, another day of this crap.
It’s the daily face off: Not-a-morning-person vs. the-morning-person.
I’ve never been one to enjoy mornings. Bring me my coffee and back away slowly.
I have never bounced out of bed, ready to start my day. The alarm going off is greeted with a curse word and slapping in the general direction of the alarm clock. Coffee allowed me to get out of the house before 7AM, in a somewhat good mood. Well , it did before having a kid. Coffee earns its nickname name “liquid sanity” since I became a mother.
Why, oh why, then was I cursed with a morning child? This child is awake and singing at 6AM. My first response to that is not very Motherly at all. It’s normally something along the lines of: Shut the F up.
My daughter greets the morning like Cinderella does. The birds’ early morning songs do not annoy her. She gives what I would call a feeble attempt at a stretch and is up singing with them. She will actually smile within minutes of getting up. There is just something not right about that. Something not right at all.
People have told me she would start sleeping in as she got older–LIES. She does not. I’m not sure what is worse: A two year old happily babbling at 6AM or hearing “My Little Pony” on the TV at 6AM.
There have been many Saturday mornings that she has sat in my bed watching TV while I slept. Normally when I start dreaming about Barbie and My Little Pony it is time to accept defeat and get up.
Gone are the mornings when I could quickly throw clothes on her and get out the door. Gone are the mornings with breakfast consumed in the car. Now she is all about picking out her own clothes. Doing her own hair. Making her own breakfast.
I’m not a morning person but I’m also not one to take forever getting ready. I’m a jeans-and-a-tee-shirt kind of person. I’m not one to putz around the house. I’m up and out… because if I don’t, I’ll fall back to sleep.
My daughter takes this as an invitation to go as slow as molasses. She’s determined to set the newest fashion trends. It’s not unusual for her to decide, after putting her shoes on, that these really are not the shorts she wanted to wear. It’s a near end of the world situation if it is a special occasion day. Two words I dread: Picture Day.
“Okay , I’m ready to go.” She declares.
Without looking, I go through the list. You know The List I’m talking about.
Is your hair brushed?
Did you brush your teeth?
Are your shoes and socks on?
Do you have your lunch box?
Do you have your homework?
This is now met with exclamations of MOM!, groaning, and stomping off on her nine-year-old feet.
My response is to take another desperate gulp of coffee.
“Okay I’m ready to go!” She chirps
This time I might actually glance over at her.
I go over The List again.
My patience for this depends on how much coffee I have consumed.
Despite The List, despite me trying to make sure she really does have it all, there have been many days of mad dashes back into the house to grab the homework.
When we do get to the school, I’m tempted to push her out and drive off.
There are some mornings I wonder how I will survive the coming teenage years. If she can drive me nuts now in an hour, by the time she’s sixteen, it will take her 2.6 seconds flat.
I look forward to Saturday and Sunday mornings when parenting is done by the TV until a decent 8AM. Even if it means I dream about Transformers and My Little Ponies battling it out at Def Con five on Moon Phase One.
Erin Fangboner writes about life with chronic illnesses on her blog while also being a parent and a wife and exploring how all the little things turn into big things.
Photo: NAGANO TOYOKAZU