Mornings
My 31st birthday dinner 
Mornings are hard around here. Especially in the last month. There is something about night-nursing at this stage of the game that can leave me feeling like I have a hangover. I'm parched, I gotta pee, and I can't seem to find a diaper that willl contain Tristan; so I end up carrying a soaked baby downstairs, changing him entirely and getting him dressed for the day, and then I'll get a chance to use the toilet. Unless Tryn beats me there first. Then Annika asks to nurse, Tryn asks for breakfast, Annika is pouty when I say I don't have my coffee yet so she can't nurse. Now Tristan generally will play on the living room floor for an hour, which is really great. Soon he will be exploring however and that freaks me out.
None of these things are really difficult. The complication lies in them all occuring at once while I am trying to unkink my stiff old neck and my head is throbbing. Within twenty minutes of my coffee (although sometimes an hour) I generally can face the world.
That is a chunk of my reality. I woke up way early today with a crabby baby, who stopped hollering after a huge poop, which I changed in time to avoid another clothing change. These are my successes. Hollering at my husband, neither a sucess or good choice in reality. Currently, my two daughters are not speaking kindly to one another upstairs, and why they have also woken up an hour early is a mystery to me. Break.
Okay, they have breakfast and an attitude change. Here comes the me-me monster all ready for her morning topper.
So the easiest solution is very obvious, isn't it? Be a morning person.
Ha, no, really.
Get up BEFORE the children if I want my adaption time. Even if it is only a half hour. Or get over myself. Or maybe I could acquire a new neck, one free from rugby injuries and car accidents! Obr just count it all joy when I am up against adverse trials....would James count this in that category?
Mornings are hard around here. Especially in the last month. There is something about night-nursing at this stage of the game that can leave me feeling like I have a hangover. I'm parched, I gotta pee, and I can't seem to find a diaper that willl contain Tristan; so I end up carrying a soaked baby downstairs, changing him entirely and getting him dressed for the day, and then I'll get a chance to use the toilet. Unless Tryn beats me there first. Then Annika asks to nurse, Tryn asks for breakfast, Annika is pouty when I say I don't have my coffee yet so she can't nurse. Now Tristan generally will play on the living room floor for an hour, which is really great. Soon he will be exploring however and that freaks me out.
None of these things are really difficult. The complication lies in them all occuring at once while I am trying to unkink my stiff old neck and my head is throbbing. Within twenty minutes of my coffee (although sometimes an hour) I generally can face the world.
That is a chunk of my reality. I woke up way early today with a crabby baby, who stopped hollering after a huge poop, which I changed in time to avoid another clothing change. These are my successes. Hollering at my husband, neither a sucess or good choice in reality. Currently, my two daughters are not speaking kindly to one another upstairs, and why they have also woken up an hour early is a mystery to me. Break.
Okay, they have breakfast and an attitude change. Here comes the me-me monster all ready for her morning topper.
So the easiest solution is very obvious, isn't it? Be a morning person.
Ha, no, really.
Get up BEFORE the children if I want my adaption time. Even if it is only a half hour. Or get over myself. Or maybe I could acquire a new neck, one free from rugby injuries and car accidents! Obr just count it all joy when I am up against adverse trials....would James count this in that category?
posted by Meg at 8:11 AM
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