By: Emily Carter
Updated: Jan. 12, 2023
Originally Published: Jan. 16, 2021
5:30 AM
Rise and shine! I wake up earlier than anyone else in the house, determined to have ample time to prepare for the day.
5:31 AM
With optimism, I contemplate brewing a hot drink to savor during my brief 15 minutes of peace. I tiptoe downstairs, careful not to wake the little ones.
5:32 AM
But my toddler, with the uncanny senses of a hawk, immediately senses my movements, even in the dark.
5:33 AM
I freeze like a deer in headlights, hoping she might drift back to sleep, but no luck. “Mama! Wake!” she chirps, her cheerfulness a stark contrast to the exhaustion I feel after a night filled with her cries for her beloved binky. I can’t help but worry that her happiness may turn into chaos at any moment.
5:34 AM
I assist my toddler on and off the potty throughout the morning, feeling only mildly guilty about the chilly toilet seat—thanks to my husband’s arctic temperature preferences for sleeping.
6:15 AM
It’s time to wake my older child, and I silently thank the universe for blessing me with at least one cheerful family member. I remind myself to stay kind, hoping this good mood lasts through his teenage years.
7:00 AM
In a whirlwind, I manage to make sure everyone is fed, hydrated, and packed for the day—well, everyone except me. At least I finally made that hot beverage I was dreaming about… because, priorities.
7:30 AM
I suddenly realize that I forgot to schedule time for the all-important Pull-Up-Character-Negotiations.
7:35 AM
Just five minutes before the bus arrives, my older child remembers a series of urgent tasks: a form that needs signing, a library book to locate for library day, a helmet for rollerblading, and oh—could he bring cookies for his teacher’s birthday?
7:40 AM
Channeling my inner supermom, I gather everything, sign the forms, and ensure he has everything he needs. There’s no time for a detour to school when the bus could save the day if he can just get there on time. With a little help from his dad, who has just emerged from the depths of slumber, he makes it out the door.
7:45 AM
I explain to my toddler that her dad will take her to her babysitter today. She responds with an enthusiastic “Okay!” which makes me fear she isn’t quite grasping the situation. I hope I’m not around when the reality hits her.
7:50 AM
Stepping outside to warm up the car, my toddler’s need for my presence causes her to twist the doorknob incessantly, inadvertently locking me out of the house. My husband is at the bus stop with our older child. Seriously, is this happening?
7:51 AM
I attempt to explain how the door works to her through the closed door, but quickly realize I’m not dealing with a rocket scientist here—she didn’t even understand my earlier announcement about her dad. Panic sets in momentarily until I remember I let the dog out upstairs. Fingers crossed!
7:52 AM
Miraculously, I make it back inside the house. What a relief! That would have been an awkward moment to explain to anyone who might have come by.
7:55 AM
I give my toddler a goodbye hug (freedom is so close!) and am pleasantly surprised to see she’s managed to put on her coat and backpack. This supports my theory that she doesn’t fully comprehend that her dad is in charge today. She hugs me sweetly and says, “Bye, Mommy!” But just as I open the door, it dawns on her—she’s leaving with him.
7:57 AM
Cue the drama. I make my escape.
8:00 AM
As I drive down the driveway, my hot drink has cooled, but it’s finally in my hands, and that makes this morning feel like a win.