from Paper Napkin
4:42 a.m. – Bear rolls over and slaps the alarm clock. I am half-awake, manage a non-descript ‘hmuh?’ and roll over into the space he left. (I like his pillows better.)
5:26 a.m. – Bear wakes me up, which I hate, but it’s for a kiss goodbye, which I love.
(side note: B always kisses me goodbye, to the point of reversing the car to come back in if he forgets. It’s an awwww thing.)
6:14 a.m. – Cass begins to wake up. He thrashes a few times on his squeaky (why haven’t I fixed that yet??) little bed, then there’s a thump (that’d be Beau, hitting the floor) and a loooong yawn. He pads down to the bathroom, then creeps in to see if I’m awake. I most empathetically AM NOT. He goes back to read the new library books we brought home yesterday.
6:32 a.m. – Blat blat blat blat why does the alarm clock sound so horrible? And how on earth did anyone think up that nasty sound? I fumble out of bed, fall over the cat (the grey striped one, who is winding around my ankles, single-mindedly seeking to trip me, hoping I’ll gush kitty treats when I land on the ground) hit the bathroom, do all the morning stuff and go help Cass pick out his clothes.
6:57 a.m. – Decide it is more important to allow C creative freedom than for me to be right and let him wear shorts. (It’s 54 degrees.) This also has the added benefit of not shooting my blood pressure through the roof. (He’ll also be inside all day in a warm house.)
7:04 a.m. – Debate making rug out of yowling for no reason cat. Short debate, because R is up and if she feels neglected in her crib too long, she’ll strip the bed of everything and pitch it all over the side. Grab outfit for Pinky, get a few smudgy kisses, (how is this happy morning critter my daughter?) and collect small boy on way downstairs.
7:15 a.m. – Breakfast? Oh, yes, I’m the mama and supposed to be feeding you kids, right? Toast is what C likes – toast and juice, with a side dish of applesauce. R snorts her way through it too. I’m busy packing myself a lunch and dressing out of the dryer again. Now where are everyone’s shoes?
7:23 a.m. – Just enough time for Cass to watch half of either a Lunar Jim or an old Spiderman carton while I brush hair and make ponytails on RoseyPose.
Last check of my purse (actually, my purse is carried inside my giant bookbag) and we’re off!
7:53 a.m. – Tim Horton’s. Medium double-double, a 12 grain, toasted, with butter for the front seat, and a ham and cheese biscuit cut in half for the two back seat drivers. (The ones who already had breakfast.)
8:28 a.m. – Kids dropped off, car parked, sitting at my desk, coffee in hand, a few minutes to relax before the day starts.
8:30 a.m. – The phone rings – hello, work day!
9:00 a.m. – Take a break. Call my doctor and discuss the scheduling of annual viewing of girly parts.
9:06 a.m. – Call preschool and enrol Cassidy, who will start tomorrow. My baby’s a preschooler! He’s going to be so excited he'll levitate!**
9:10 a.m. – Back to grind. Cancellations, rebookings, sick calls, Department of Health people, Care Coordinators. I have no shortage of people to talk to during the day. In between the shrilling of the phone, check and sort mountain of schedules.
Noon – Work work work work, with a stop for lunch thrown in.
4:30 – Finish computer back-ups and turn computer off, lunging out the door. Time to pick up my two and head home!
4:38 – Pick up kids. Cass is dancing around, he’s so excited he gets to go to school with one of his friends, and the Rose-girl is a bit crumpled (short nap) but still ready to give me the Mama! squeal and the rush to hug my knees.
4:45 – Stop in at ambulance base so Bear (who’s working a twenty-four) can see the kids.
5:00 – Home again, home again, jiggety jig. Dinner to make, kid-fights to referee, juice to pour.
7:30 – Upstairs, for baths, brush teeth, stories, and bed for both.
7:45 – The house is quiet. The house is quiet.
And I’m going to go make myself a cup of tea and read my e-mail.
The rest of the night is mine.
** Cass will be five in October and so missed out on going to grade primary this year. By four days. Not that I’m bitter. Or that he’s disappointed.