I Hate Mornings

                           
I hate mornings and was having an especially hard time this morning. I kept nudging my husband and murmuring, "Hit the snooze button again." I did not want to get up. The bed felt so good. Then I realized that I shouldn't be a crap parent and should get up and make lunches and breakfast for the kids which is really an overrated and thankless task.

Things seemed like they were going okay this morning. Both the kids woke up and were getting ready to go. I was in the kitchen making sandwiches when my husband came down. He took a bowl out of the cabinet and grabbed a box of cereal. "If you wait a little bit I will make you some oatmeal with fruit and cup of coffee," I said. He stared at me for a moment while he decided if he was going to say what he was thinking.

He did, he couldn't hold it in any longer. "I'm tired of eating porridge. We are not destitute. I am not Oliver Twist. I'm not going to eat it anymore." I held up the packet. "It's not porridge, it's oatmeal. It's maple and brown sugar. I got it from Publix....." He was hating on my oatmeal and I didn't like it.

It's a good thing my grumpy kids came downstairs to annoy me at that very moment. My eight year old was FLIPPING out that she couldn't find matching socks. She was yelling that the socks she had on "felt weird" whatever the hell that means. Then she started complaining that it was 6:55 and that her sister wasn't out of the bathroom yet. I don't know what the heck she does in there every morning but she takes forever. I almost sent a search and rescue team to get her.

When she finally did come downstairs she was wearing some cotton booty shorts. Here we go again with the damn shorts. I can't escape it. I looked at her like she had three heads. "What are you wearing? You cannot go to school in those shorts." She protested, "But mom, you said I could wear them."
                       
She's half right. I said she could wear them TO BED. I swear to God if selective hearing were an Olympic sport the child would have a gold medal. "Go upstairs and get changed. You have 3 minutes." She stomped upstairs and I asked my eight year old if she had everything packed for school. She replied that she did.

My daughter came back downstairs in more appropriate shorts and I told her to grab something for breakfast. She refused. This is another battle in my house. The refusal of my kids to eat breakfast. "You need to eat SOMETHING, you don't have lunch until 12:45." Then I get attitude for insisting that she eat something. Seriously? I'm not trying to be a hole, I am looking out for your well being. I offered her porridge and she rolled her eyes at me.

We finally got out the door but not without my third grader yelling and being unreasonable about something. I don't even remember what she was flipping out about. I tried to tune her out.

We sit down in the car and we had a fight about the radio. I wanted to listen to my music but my ten year old freaked out and said, "Nineties music is crappy. They just sing about random things and stuff that doesn't exist anymore." What does that even mean?

They made me listen to that "Stay With Me" song. I hate that song. It's just not my style. If I had just experienced a breakup and was sitting in a bathtub sobbing uncontrollably then maybe I might enjoy listening to that song but I wasn't. I was driving the kids to school at 7 am. Put me to sleep with that crap.

By the time I had dropped both kids off it was 7:30 am I already felt like it had been a long day. We can't have one pleasant morning. That just wouldn't be fun, would it?