Tag Archives: morning

Oh What a Beautiful Morning

24 Mar

It takes me a while to get started in the morning, a combination of working late on my feet, being pregnant with what at this point seems to be quadruplets, and taking care of a family during the day… well let’s just say I don’t rise in the morning with songbirds attending me!  It’s more like a series of grunts and groans and please dear God don’t start fighting already or for God’s sake, for my sake, one of my little cherubs is still sleeping don’t wake her up!  My youngest daughter is in that stage of not really being able to handle,  well, anything… she is pretty much reduced to tears or heads in that direction for any small slight or disappointment.  This is compounded by the fact that she’s one of those little girls who for whatever reason just can’t get the hang of consonants so she’s very hard to understand which only adds to her and my frustration.  So it usually starts something like this;  the cats are going berserk and my youngest is the first one up, and she’s trying to tell me that the cat is chewing off her foot, but I’m too groggy to understand what she’s saying let alone understand that this isn’t a dream and I have to actually get up out of bed and address the issue ,  I’m griping and moaning something about letting me sleep and my daughter’s crying because the cat won’t leave her alone and I’ve only just realized where I am, and what that pain in my side is…oh it’s my other daughter’s elbow, who apparently crawled into our bed ( I use the term our loosely ) at some point in the night in a vain attempt to crawl back inside the womb.  I keep telling her the space is leased until sometime in September, but what with being 4, she doesn’t get biology or my humor.  By some act of God I have a moment where a little voice inside my head reminds me that this is the good stuff…I try to injure the voice in my head, but to no avail, now I’m just punching myself  loosely in the head which is using the only energy that I have so I give up.  My daughter finds this very entertaining but not enough to distract her from the fact that I am indeed still sitting on the bed.  She has mastered the words “Get Up Mommy”  with a guilt inducing tone that has me on my feet with a speed that speaks to the fear that this one failure on my part will have her sitting in the therapist chair years from now saying things like ” It was always so hard to wake my mother up in the morning I always felt like I wasn’t important enough for her, like she just didn’t care”.   If children only knew the guilt and feelings of inadequacy that they inadvertently hit upon with such regularity it makes you question if they weren’t a Catholic Mother in a previous life.