I know that I'll look back and cherish these hectic mornings. I know I will. In fact, there are a thousand little moments each day that I scoop up carefully and lock away in my heart, knowing that while my mind may forget these teeny blessings, my heart never will.
I wake up as usual, with Chris poking and prodding me, "It's after 7. I'm late! You have to get up now! Come on, are you awake?! Get up! I'm leaving!" I try heroically to pry my eyes open and fight the tiny be-horned, red-dressed Bonnie on my shoulder urging me to ignore his pleadings and drift back off. Shortly after I hear the alarm set, and his thump, thump, thump off the porch and the roar of his super-cool muffler (or lack thereof) on his truck, I am able to relax again.
Drifting off... nice and easy... "eh." nice and... "eeehhh." "EEEHHH!" Like the winding up of a firetruck siren, I hear the whine begin. Slowly and spaced out, at first, growing in urgency and demand the longer I wait. "Just five more minutes," I plead. "Just play with Bunny Bear and your feet, or something. I'll be right there," I beg the one-way monitor, who I know is not passing my message on to the increasingly impatient toddler a few rooms away. THWACK. There goes Bunny Bear. My time is short now. I jump out of bed, stumble into as few pieces of furniture as possible, and stagger into her room. As I finally peel back the sleep mask (why didn't I think of that sooner?), I see her sweet rosy cheecks and chin resting on the rail of her crib, arms outstretched and she coos an excited greeting to me. "Well, hello there, my Little Bit. How's my Love Muffin this morning?" Her arms reach up and around me, briefly, and she points excitedly toward the door - "Da-da!". Of course.
"Honey, your Da-da has gone to work already, but what about me? I'm here... Remember Ma-Ma?" "Da-da!" she states emphatically and squirms to be let down. "By all means, go look. I'll just get you a clean diaper and a change of clothes and some juice while you look for your precious DaDa. I'll just think of all those times when I puked first thing in the morning until I laid my head back in bed at the end of the day while I was carrying and carefully nurturing you INSIDE MY BODY while you go look for dearest Dada." P.S. - I'm not bitter that she loves him more. I'm glad she's so head over heels for her DaDa. It's what I've always dreamed of. Seriously. Not at all bitter.
As I carry the clothes and shoes and other necessities to my room, she comes scooting in on her little pink car, fearlessly flinging herself into the same doorways and furniture legs I sought to avoid mere moments before. Grinning ear to ear, she leaps into my arms, and with only a little pleading from me, gives me one of the sweetest kisses I'll ever recieve before flopping excitedly on the bed and pointing to the TV. I take what I can get. And love every second. "So what is it this morning, your majesty? Toys? (Toy Story 2) Baa? (Shaun the Sheep), Shrek? (Shrek 2)" "Cars!" she demands. "Hon, cars are only on the computer. You can watch those with Daddy tonight" "Daddy?" she looks around expectantly. "No, tonight.... nevermind. Here, let's get dressed". Cars is her word for watching the endless YouTube clips Chris has found of antique cars being driven. When she gets bored of that, they watch a little "Row, Row" (your boat), and some "Itsy Bitsy" (spider), then maybe a little bluegrass before she's back to watching cars. I honestly have no clue how he's done it, but the two of them have one another wrapped around their fingers. It's sickening, really.
Once dressed, she watches her movie as Mommy scurries to get ready, often noshing on Cheerios or dried fruit and sipping milk. "Come on, cowgirl, time to head out. Ready to go to school and get Bite Bites and see Ms. Lauren?!" Nodding emphatically, she grabs Bunny Bear, jumps aboard the pink car and begins banging her way through the halls to the kitchen. There we have to stop so I can give her medicine - the latest round of antibiotics for the latest ear infections... fun. Thankfully, the kid loves medicine. She's on the far side of the island when I tell her it's time for her medicine, and suddenly I see a chubby hand pop up over the edge of the counter and a pacifier flies onto the granite. Then stomp, stomp, stomp, and a very excited young lady is standing in front of my eagerly awaiting a tube of yummy medicine. She sucks until it's empty, then looks up expectantly - "Mo?" "No, honey, no more until tonight... go get Bunny and let's go"
She stomps around to the other side of the island and I see the chubby hand pop back over the edge of the counter, feeling around for the paci... I slide it closer, and she finds it. I hear the happy slurp as it hits it's target and shortly she appears next to me, bear in hand. She proceeds past me to the door and begins slapping it loudly ("knocking", or our version of it), as I snatch my purse and bags, set the alarm, and out we go. Or out she goes, and stops abruptly in the doorway (just like her Grandma). "Mauwh Mauwh?" she asks, elbows akimbo, hands bouncing in the air. "I don't know where our kitty is this morning, baby. Why don't you call him?" I say as I scurry past her to drop my load in the car and get her seat ready. At this point, we're desperately late, but that doesn't concern her... "MAUWH MAUWH" she cries, looking in every direction. I try to get back in time, but no, she's found her rocks. Has one in each hand and is wielding them somewhat scarily near the bathroom windows. Calling for the cat and stomping along the porch with her rocks, any attempt by me to extract her from the situation is met with a firm howl. "Bite Bites, school, Ms. Lauren," I remind her. She flings the rocks down and starts running toward the steps, hollering "Bite Bites" with every step... At least I know how to motivate the kid. About that time, Mauwh Mauwh shows up, so we have to shriek at him, pet him, then laugh and shriek som more as he begins winding himself through my legs. I have to navigate the field of land mines between letting the very independent toddler walk down the stairs and to the car herself, all while trying not to break an ankle in my heeled shoes on the gravel walk, and avoid tripping over and killing the damn cat (actually, most of the time I like the cat, but when he's between or in front of my every step and I'm already late, he's a damn cat).
Finally, everyone in the car, buckled up and we're on our way. Whew. Hayden has her cell phone and is jabbering excitedly into the reciever. I think it's Mema and Poppie we're talking to this morning. Or about them. I'm never quite sure. She sounds an awful lot like the lady that does my nails, and as I look in the rearview mirror, I can see she's literally foaming from the speed at which she's talking. Every once in a while, I catch a word I think I might understand. "bawl... Mauwh... wock (rock).... Pop-pee...buhbuhls...bite, bites...oooh, oooh (her dog bark)..." This feverishly paced conversation continues until we get to school, and she happily flings the phone aside (I think it landed in the cupholder on the other side of the car) and snatches up her bunny bear and paci and reaches for me. Once unfastened, I remind her the paci stays in the car and she flings it into her seat and bounces happily in my arms. It's Bite Bite Time!
I drop her off in the room, where she runs happily to an empty chair and sits, legs pumping, for Ms. Lauren to bring breakfast. This morning it's a biscuit, chicken patty, and applesauce with milk. She grabs the biscuit and chicken, takes a lick of the chicken before tossing it back on her plate and tearing into the biscuit. I get her attention and blow her a kiss bye-bye, and wait long enough for her to blow me one back "Mwah!".
And, I'm off to work... finally. Late, but I wouldn't trade a minute of the morning I've just had. And not that late...At least we had no melt-downs, explosions or other heart-breaks this morning. I'm sure she's saving that for tomorrow. I can't wait.
1 comment:
Wishing you beautiful mornings every day...just like this.
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