Lesson #1- The sun doesn't have to rise before you can call it morning.
I throw myself out of bed, leaping clear of the sleeping 3 year old on the floor beside me. (He's a bit of a bedtime gypsy.) I stagger into bubs room. He's standing behind the door, of course. (Lucky I didn't enter with a flying kick... this time). I should probably mention that 'bub'- a.k.a ninja 2.0- is more of a toddler these days. An almost 17 month old, who walks (sprints) talks and high-fives his brother.
So I scoop him up quickly before he can run out of his room and start wreaking havoc. I crawl into my bed with him and attempt to silence him with milk. I last about 20 minutes before he loses interest and starts bouncing around. I open one eye to see a little blonde head pop up beside me. "Hey baby K!" It's 4.30. Seeeeeeeriously? They both run around the room while I attempt to find pants. I have about a 50% success rate. We head downstairs. By head, I mean I carry ninja 2.0 and ninja 1 holds my hand.
Lesson #2- Walking is prohibited under the ninja code, apparently. Especially if there are stairs involved. You MUST jump and flail.
I manage not to drop any children or swear words on the stairs. Coffee! The reward should be cof- urgh. Someone's got a poo. Poo patrol takes at least 10 minutes. Sometimes the culprit denies it and tries to run. Ha. Funny joke there. The culprit ALWAYS runs. And throws furniture and toys in my path for good measure. I've probably muttered *fuck* under my breath at least twice by now. You're lying if you say your mornings are any different.
I do my motherly duty, and eradicate the poo threat. Coffee! I need coffee! I break free of ninja 2.0, who by now- has dissolved into a sobbing mess because there hasn't been a boob in his mouth for 13 whole minutes while I was elbow deep in.... joy and warm feelings. I lock myself behind the safety of the baby gate and marvel at the destruction in the kitchen. I mutter *fuck* a few more times. Being careful not to trigger an avalanche of dirty dishes, I turn the kettle on. Its pretty blue glow is comforting, for about 3 seconds. Now they're both crying. Ninja 1 wants cartoons. Ninja 2.0 just wants to be permanently attached to my body.
Before I can finish making my coffee, three toy boxes have been upended on the floor and a fight has broken out. Mission abort! Mission abort! I attempt to avoid a full on riot using whatever means necessary. 30 minutes in, I realize that just like every other day, it's not going to plan. I bail back out to the safety of the kitchen after throwing crayons and books into the riot.
It's definitely a 'cream in my coffee' kind of day. Hell... every day is a good day for cream. I'm only having the coffee as an excuse to drink the cream. Okay. Slight exaggeration there, but the point is- I like cream. Three large gulps into my cream with a side of coffee........ and someone has drawn on the walls. White walls. I say *fuck* some more and abandon the coffee. Cream. Whatever.
#Lesson 3- Crayons seem harmless but they WILL ruin your cream. Or coffee. Or coffee cream. Whatever your morning beverage of choice... it will be ruined.
I think that's enough learning for today. If you're a non-parent, and want a realistic parenting simulation to try, follow these easy steps.
1. Stay up really late the night before.
2. Set your alarm for 4am, volume LOUD, ringtone DEATH METAL.
3. Bury your phone somewhere in your room and try to find it in the dark without swearing.
4. Light your ass on fire.
Stay tuned for Episode 2- Attempted productivity before naptime.
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