Oh, Good Morning Monday

It is Monday, our favorite day of the week. I am starting to think that Monday isn’t just a day, but an actual entity. And it hates me. With a burning passion. My day started like this;

Woke up to baby crying. Hubby decides that he can ignore the baby, even though its his turn to get up. He doesn’t. So I do. It is 4 AM. I get baby to fall back asleep, for an hour. She is up again. This time I elbow the hubby and he reluctantly gets up, re-wraps her and plops her beloved pacifier back in. She is content, but awake. He goes back to bed. He starts snoring. She is munching happily on her little orange pacie. Mommy lays awake until she begrudgingly gets up to start her day.

Cue traffic. Lots of it. 495 is backed up. So I go Route 2 to 95. Thats a mess. An hour and a half later I arrive at work and stop to grab a coffee. Dunkin Donuts made my coffee wrong. Not just a little wrong, but wicked wrong. Like asking for a French Vanilla with skim milk and no sugar, and getting a pumpkin coffee with EXTRA FREAKING CREAM and like 12 sugars. I gagged. I went back in and had them make me a new one, something I never do. Next go? Regular coffee. Begrudgingly, I accept it. I head in to work. Someone bumps into me while walking into my office, and my hot coffee spills down my shirt. Fantastic. A couple of paper towels later, I look somewhat normal. I head into my office and throw on the light. And guess what? There is a massive freaking spider chilling on the window. And because its on the outside, I can’t get it to move. Its just sitting there, looking at me. I know its looking at me. Now its eating a bug. Great.

Its not even 11, and all I want to do is pretend this day never existed. Seriously. Mondays are like Karma days. I cut someone off on Friday, now Monday is all I’m Gonna Get You My Pretty! Screw this. I want my bed.

Sincerely,

A wicked annoyed, coffee-drenched woman who can’t help but stare at the massive spider on her window.

Mornings: A Thought on Alarm Clocks

Over the past few weeks my household has gone from normal crazy to psychotic crazy. Even my dog has felt the dramatic change in the air and has become increasingly more demanding of my attention. This, as you can imagine, sparks a war between my pooch Zoey and my daughter Kayla. This battle is never more hectic than in the morning, at 6:30am.

My dog is lazy. There really is no other way to describe it. She sleeps a good portion of the day, and when she isn’t sleeping she is resting. She is a bed hog and always likes to curl up at my feet. During the morning, however, when she knows Kayla will be coming in at any moment she moves and curls up against my back. Then, as my door creaks open and the my little curly-haired clone whispers her normal “Good Morning Mommy Daddy”, the mayhem begins. (yes, she calls us mommy daddy, not mommy and Daddy” ) Kayla comes to the edge of the bed, to which my dog growls and grunts in annoyance. She never snaps or makes any other aggressive move, just growls and grunts. If Kayla persists, as in she climbs onto the bed with us, Zoey then begins to whine. She does not want to get up. Lazy thing.

Then the chaos strikes. Kayla yells at Zoey, “No! No Zoey!” and the dog whines more. Kayla yells louder. Daddy grunts and burrows under the pillows. Kayla starts laughing. Zoey keeps whining. Mommy tries to pretend she can’t hear anything. Kayla starts jumping on the bed. The dog starts growling again. Daddy gets cranky (he is so not a morning person). Mommy finally gets up and begins her day.

I brush my teeth. “Mommy I want to brush my teeth.” Zoey practically sits on my feet.

I brush my hair. “Mommy I want to brush my hair.” Zoey is still sitting at my feet.

I put my boots on. “Mommy where my boots go?” Zoey sits next to me trying to get onto my lap.

I grab a coffee. “Mommy I have some coffee too?” Zoey runs around my feet, causing me to trip.

I put my perfume one. “Mommy me too!” Zoey sneezes like crazy because she never moves from my feet.

I grab my purse. “Mommy where my purse go?” Zoey runs to the door, as long as it isn’t more than two feet away from my current position. By now, Daddy is stumbling out of bed.

I give my daughter a kiss, my hubby a kiss, and pat my dog on her fluffy head. I then try to squeeze out the door without allowing either one to follow despite their best attempts.

What is your morning ritual? If you say you wake up naturally, I will hate you! Just kidding. I won’t hate you. Just mildly dislike!