His Morning. Her Morning
4 a.m. Alarm sounds, signaling it is time to write a story, after pressing snooze a few times.
6 a.m. Looks at clock, oops--turns out she hit snooze 12 times.
6:20 a.m. Climbs out of bed and over laundry to get to the kitchen. Goes to the basement and throws in another load of laundry. Makes coffee.
6:30 a.m. Shuffles through school papers, writing checks for lunch, yearbook, school pictures, trashbags...all payable to the Bleed the Parents Dry Association.
7 a.m. Oldest son stumbles out of bed with a laundry list of ailments. "Maybe I should stay home from school and watch T.V.," he says.
7:05 a.m. Middle son comes out of his room declaring that he's already dressed for school. He is wearing a chocolate stained leprochan shirt and football pants.
7:10 a.m. Baby somehow gets out of bed and sees a tin of Pringles left on the kitchen counter. Damn. This conversation is not going to go well.
7:11 a.m. "Mine. Mine. Mine," he says, grabbing at air. "Mama, see? See? Mine. Mine."
"No chips for breakfast," she says. "I'm fixing oatmeal."
Suddenly, an opera is taking place in the kitchen. Baby covers his face, "Nooooo, nooooo, nooooo." The oatmeal bowls shatter--and they were plastic.
7:15 a.m. Oldest son remembers his big Friday assignment is actually due to today. He yells questions to mom as she stirs the oatmeal.
7:16 a.m. "Mooooom, I don't have any clean shorts," middle son yells.
Opera continues for toddler.
7:17 a.m. Minutes before homework is due, oldest son is still procrastinating (wonder where he gets that from.)
7:18 Alarm clock goes off in bedroom, aparently still in snooze mode.
7:19 Oatmeal boils over.
7:20 Homework help needed.
7:21 Youngest son spots leftover popcorn in a brown paper bag. Who the bloody hell cleaned the kitchen last night?! Oh, it was her.
7:22 Oldest takes a break from homework to stare at the laundry basket--
"Mom, I can't find any socks!"
"Move things around in the basket."
7:23 Middle son comes out wearing toddler's clothing.
7:24 Toddler hides under the table eating popcorn.
7:25 Oatmeal is on the table.
"More sugar please."
"More sugar please."
"Moooom, more sugar pleeeeaaaase!"
7:26 A gentle internal alarm clock awakens husband out of a sweet dream. It doesn't buzz shrilly, as if he got the wrong answer just by waking up.
Rather it tells him, "Good morning sunshine. In four minutes, you need to leave for work. Relax, you have plenty of time. Find your jeans, your keys, your wallet and a clean shirt (If you can't locate them, yell your wife's name really loud--she's good at finding stuff...something about "moving things around"). Take cover on your way to the door; it's a battle zone out there.
7:30 Husband hustles to the door, holding the sports page. "I gotta go to work. You boys be good for mom." He closes the door...just missing the glob of oatmeal hurling through the air. Damn.