If there was a 'Morning in Pleasantville' drug, I would definitely be smoking it. I would be sucking on that pipe for sure. I am not a morning person and, as I stuggle to drag myself from the bed at 6 a.m., I am far from being Miss Mary Sunshine. I am more like Ms. Roxy Bitchslap. However, I am a mom which means that I have to plaster on a smile and face the trials of the morning. Why does it have to be so hard, Oh Lord? Alan and I divide the morning labor. I am on Sage duty and Alan is on breakfast duty. In theory, it should run smoothly, but in reality it is my own little slice of hell.
Here is an example of the typical morning--I enter Sage's room, turn on a dim light and sing "Good Morning to You." Honestly I don't know why I sing since I remember hating it when my mom did it to me. I guess it is further proof that I am turning into my parents. After ignoring me for a few seconds Sage starts to stir and the whining starts. I try not to lose patience since any cross word or action will result in full blown crying. I hand him his cold, wet washcloth to wipe the sleepies from his eyes. It is cold because on Monday he cried when I gave him a warm washcloth. He takes the washcloth and whines, "It's too cold!!" (My smile has now cracked into a Billy Idol snarl.) I proceed to dress his limp form because his "arms and legs are not working." Then I cajole him into the bathroom for teeth and hair brushing. Since he refuses to open his eyes he trips over Shepard's potty seat. Between screams, he blurts out "It's all your fault, Mommy!" Me, "Why is it my fault? You were the one walking around with your eyes closed." Sage, "You should have led me!" What am I now--a Seeing Eye Mom?! After about 10 long minutes, 23 times of saying "Brush!!" 2 threats of what will happen if he doesn't brush ( "Your teeth will grow mold that tastes like green beans" and "Santa is putting you on the bad breath list") and one "Jesus brushed", we are finally ready to come downstairs. Stay tuned for Part II of our morning adventure.