Why?!?!

Why did I ever start blogging at night when I'm a morning person?! Why?!?! For as long as I can remember I was a morning person. I remember waking up at 2AM to watch soaps, GH in the 90s was to die for, TO DIE FOR. I won't even get started about the beauty that was Sonny and Brenda, Stefan and Laura...my heart is racing just thinking about it. But I digress, I would wake up 2 or 3AM to write papers. I found it so much easier to go to bed early, then wake up early and get work done. So with three children, why did I think I should blog at night? Simply because I had a few nights, after I started this blog, that I didn't collapse after the kids went to bed. To quote my baby, "Enough!" (I know crazy right, that the baby says "enough" and in the right context.) I'm reclaiming my sanity or rather restoring it and posting in the morning.

And keeping on the reclaiming sanity theme, I will never again cook dinner before I leave for work. When my baby boy was my one and only, I tried getting dressed, while he still slept, and then cook dinner. BUST! Just not enough time if something didn't cook the way it was suppose to, then the food was too hot to put in the fridge if I couldn't find the pot holders. It was unnecessary drama added to a hectic morning.

But because some time last night, I decided that I was too tired to cook though I had all the food out, I cooked this morning. Oh, wait I remember, I convinced myself I couldn't cook because I hadn't defrosted any meat and you can't cook the main dish and entrees, if you can't cook the meat at the same time. That's cooking 101. So I thought I would wake up early this morning and my human Lojac would sleep through me easing out of the bed, except for the first time in weeks, PRAISE GOD!, I slept through the night. I went to bed shortly after putting the kids to bed at 8PM and I didn't wake up until 10 minutes til 6AM. AMAZING!!! Okay, so I'm grateful for a complete night of sleep, but I can't sleep until 6AM every morning. How will I get everything done?

But back to the point, I got up, fiddled around for a while, until I remembered I had to cook. The kids had cereal for dinner the night before and unless they wanted oatmeal tonight, I had to cook. But before cooking, I had to get Oma out of the house which is a process, move my car so she could get her car out, then it was on to cooking. The chicken had defrosted so I was ready to go.

I sprayed the skillet so I could cook the zucchini, but they weren't browning the way I wanted. Why weren't they browning? I left them to cook and turned up the heat, while I turned my attention to the chicken. A little seasoning, hopefully enough seasoning (how do you know you've put enough season on meat?), and on to the George Foreman Grill. Thank you, Daddy, what a great buy. It's as if he knew one day, he would have three growing grandchildren that his daughter would have to cook for.

Back to the zucchini, which still hadn't browned, and then I remembered what Louise said to me. "If you want something to brown, you need to use grease." SCORE! There was grease near the stove, add grease and presto. With the veggies cooking as they should, I turned my attention to the au gratin potatoes which I hadn't even started and time was ticking away. I read the directions and multiplied by 3, since I was cooking three boxes of potatoes, but that seemed like too much water especially once it was combined with the milk. So I parted ways with the directions, which is hard for me to do, and put less water, then put the concoction on the stove.

Everything was going on swimmingly, the meat was cooking, the veggies were browning, after I lessened the amount in the skillet, the potatoes were on, and just in time for the piercing cries of "Mommy! Mommy!" to begin. My Lojac had awakened. At times, it's hard that I can't even get out of bed without her waking up, but other times it makes my face shine that my baby can't sleep without me.

"I'm in the kitchen, baby," I called out as I turned the fires down, glanced at the clock, and readied myself for baby. "Good morning, baby," I greeted my little one as I gave her hug and picked her up.

She hugged my neck, then dried her tears, as we headed off to job number 2, ironing. Yeah, I hadn't felt like ironing last night either, even though I had set up the ironing board and had the clothes all ready to go. I couldn't be bothered with the ironing board, so I grabbed a towel, plugged up the iron, and sent the baby on her way to get her underwear so she could be distracted as I ironed. If I hadn't been cooking, then ironing the kids' clothes before school wouldn't have been crazy, but I was and the ironing made the clock tick even faster.

As the baby disrobed, I ironed while watching CMT until I heard a hissing sound. What was that? I ran into the kitchen to find the milk, water, cheese components of the potatoes overflowing. YIKES! I wanted to clean up the mess before it hardened on the stove, but I didn't have time. These potatoes had to finish before we left for work and school, so I did the best I could, turned the flame down even lower, and went back to ironing. Not trusting the time on my watch since Jory fiddled with it at church, I checked the time on the TV and realized it was time for the other two to get up. "Rise and shine!" was shouted with individual names, but no bodies appeared before me. I continued to iron as the baby and I rocked out to country. (Really is there any genre that mixes God, patriotism, and everyday life stuff so well? Or even at all? No pop singer could sing a song about the house they grew up in as eloquently or as realistically as my new fav Miranda Lambert.)

More encouragement given to wake up was given, then nicknames fell to the wayside as names were used, which seemed to move Rowan, who had been sleeping three feet from me. But to get Jory out of bed, took the use of his whole name. His waking up was not a pleasant one. It started with whining.

"I'm tired."

"You should have went to bed when I put you to bed, instead of running up and down the hallway with your sisters."

I woke up at some point last night to the sound of a herd running and giggling. The first time I know I told everyone to go to bed. The second time I might have made a threat of punishment. And the third time, I thought about getting out of bed and thought, ah, they'll go to bed eventually, and I went back to sleep. Then sometime even later than that, the baby woke up and knew Oma wasn't mommy and started calling for me and walking towards my room. Which in turn woke up her brother (I guess everyone was sleeping with Oma or more like collapsed near the sleeping Oma), so he asked if he could sleep with us and I told him to come on.

"Mommy, I'm cold," he then said, because I totally got him with the go to bed early thing.

"Put your robe on and get up and brush your teeth."

Rowan walked up to me and I gave her her morning hug. I've discovered she works better with a morning hug. I sent her on her way to brush her teeth when I noticed I had to do her hair. Oh, that's right I was going to wash it the night before, but when she got into the bathtub I hadn't taken down her hair or the baby's so I told them I would wash it tonight. Crap! Now I had to finish the ironing, check on the potatoes, take a shower (another thing I didn't do last night), and do Rowan's hair. UGH!

As she walked away, her brother walked down the hall with his blanket.

"Put it back," I called out.

"But I'm cold," he whined.

"Put your robe on!" I unwhined back, which then led to tears. Ah, the first tears of the morning. Or the second, if you count the baby's, which I don't cause that's what she does whenever she wakes up without me by her side. What would a morning be like without tears?

I tried to urge Jory to hurry up, but I was having little success which was starting to get to me, kinda like the potatoes that kept overflowing. This is exactly why you can't cook in the mornings.

Oh yeah, I had to take a shower. I decided something had to give, right after I noticed Rowan's tennis shoes needed lacing. I quickly laced them, then ran to the bathroom to brush her and the baby's teeth. The still crying Jory was left to his own devices.

Teeth were brushed, and I sent Rowan off to put her clothes on, forgetting something important as I ran off to the kitchen. The chicken was done and after a slice inside, I saw it was done inside too. SCORE! Meat done and put in a container. (I need some more plastic containers of various sizes.) My brown veggies were done and put in a container. It would have been nice if the container had a lid, but I couldn't find it so a clean dishtowel would have to do. The something I forgot as I walked back into the room was that Rowan's other kryptonite is the TV. With the TV on, nothing can get done or if it does it's an incredibly, my dead grandma could do it faster, rate. She was banished from the room to get dressed, as Jory walked into the room so I could go over his finally finished brushed teeth.

Minutes later, Rowan appeared dressed and I sent her off to find her sister's orange pants. As I cleaned the kitchen and by cleaned, I mean I rinsed out the dirty dishes, I forgot Rowan's other kryptonite. How could I forget she's horrible at looking for things I asked myself, when she walked up to me holding Jory's now hers red Hilo Hattie's Hawaiian shirt? If it's not out in the open or a toy she wants to play with, Rowan can't find it.

The potatoes weren't finished. Cook you evil things! I still needed a shower, dress the baby, and be a hairdresser. Tick tock. Yikes! Then Jory walked out of the room dressed, but missing a t-shirt. Really dude? Really?!

"Put your t-shirt on, please." I always love his look of shock, as if he doesn't know he doesn't have a t-shirt on or as if he doesn't know he left his pajama top on. Can I bang my head against the wall?

"Mommy, I can't find it."

"You went to bed without putting a t-shirt on?"

"Yes."

I gave him the look and sent him off to his room to put a t-shirt on, then I decided to put myself out of my misery and go get the baby's pants myself, which I quickly found under a pillow. That Rowan will be the death of me. I grab the baby's t-shirt, pick her up, and quickly start to dress her, until I noticed little Miss "I sweat in my sleep" had no undershirt on. I run, grab one and dress her. She was sockless, but I did have her shoes next to me.

"Baby, go get some socks," I commanded, as I had Rowan sit down to tie up her tennis shoes. I looked at her hair, checked the time on the TV, and decided her hair didn't look that bad with a little brushing. But on second glance, maybe...I took down her back two ponytails, brushed her hair carefully as to not disturb her braids, put the ponytail holders back on, grabbed some coordinating barrettes, and she was finished just as the baby walked back into the room.

"You wore those socks last week, Baby. Go get some new ones." How do I know she wore those socks last week? Because they are Christmasy and I really had to bite my tongue and go against my nature to let her wear such socks before we partook in turkey with our loved ones. I was not doing that a second time.

With a quick help to Jory, who was taking forever and a day, tucking in his shirt which I know is just a way to dig at me, but that's an issue for another day, I was off to take my shower, finally. As I showered, the baby came in with the deodorant (gotta love babies who observe the routine and decide without asking to jump in and help) and Rowan came in with the lotion. Brush teeth and shower as quickly as humanly possible. I jumped out and on the way to my room decided it had to be a sweatsuit week because I couldn't even begin to think of putting together outfits for the week.

I was dressed, the trio was dressed, Jory had done his chores, and the potatoes were as close to finish as they were going to get. I picked up the pot holder, found a tight space in the fridge, and put the pot in. As I turned to grab my ear piece, I noticed those evil creatures. EVIL ANTS had found something I left on the counter. It was official I was past late for work, I cleaned up the ants trying to make sure none got on me. I HATE those evil little things that carry what twice or three times their body weight!

I made my lunch, took out the trash, and ran out of the door with the trio who had remembered their blankets for school and homework. And this is why you can never cook dinner in the morning...