Mornings....

Sorry, no pictures again today, as my camera needs batteries.

I do not like the morning, at least as it stands.  I am grumpy and slow to wake up, and I know the secret might be to get up a little earlier, before my little ones are up, and slug back some coffee and just sit...but I don't want to.  My bed is warm and the kitchen in our old house is cold.  And David would probably get up with me, as the last hour or two of the morning still consist of him nursing on and off, and me being wildly inconsistent about allowing him, and how I respond.  Sometimes lovingly, sometimes with some irritation.  Depending on how early I went to bed, I suppose.  But at any rate, the mornings around here are not pretty.  I get up and make breakfast and coffee, and try to cajole my non-morning sweetie girl out of bed.  Then breakfast, which is almost always the same-oatmeal, frozen raspberries, maple syrup and whole (raw) milk.  When I try to shake things up, I get complaints, or if I try just cold cereal, I get cranky hungry kids an hour later.  And then the dressing saga--Elsa is in school every day, and she likes it mostly, but for some reason, this piece totally wears me out.  Often, while I am busy doctoring up my coffee, the children enter in some complicated and adorable game--groundhogs being the latest, where they load the bottom bunk with all of their possessions and move and I don't know, while I repeat myself and get irritated about getting dressed.  (Often, I am  not dressed myself.)  Halfway through the dressing process, one or all of us, gets distracted by a book, the weather on the computer (I am an obsessive weather checker--hoping for some SNOW), or some kind of game--this morning, it was dumping all the chess pieces in a big bowl of water to "dissolve" them...good luck on that one, kiddos...but I suppose they are doing science.  Anyway, suffice to say, I don't know how some mamas do it--getting it together in the morning to get out of the house (and  not have dirty breakfast dishes sitting around all day.)  I am, in the end, so grateful to be home.  And I suppose, when it matters more, I will be able to make the morning happen in a better, more productive way.  Especially if I don't have a child (or children) in bed with me, snuggled up and warm.  Some day, some day.