Welcome Back to the Morning Rat Race

Welcome Back to the Morning Rat Race


Ahhh, nothing like being jolted from a warm bed, dreaming about a dear friend who is shockingly pregnant (my own night time soap opera) and then the alarm sounds and the race begins. I am the main character, the rat.

My husband and children are the mice scurrying around aimlessly and asking questions like who putted it there? Did you sign my reading log? Not once. Not twice. Not even three times. Nope, an average of 6-8 times because my people repeat themselves. Often as they sit lazily on the toilet and yell over the whirr of electric toothbrushes; I am suspicious that they are only turned on as suspiciously never a speck of wetness if I feel like checking once they have left.

Usually though I don’t bother with these details, flushing toilets, abandoned reading logs, homework on the table. No, I am too eager to get in my cozy space, cuddle with Amos and watch the TODAY show if only to see what’s happening in the real world and feel like I am really on top of things. We all know this is not true.

I have always been a go-getter but not a very good go-catcher, more like an aimless chaser, a possum trapped in the headlights or even better, the sloth in a panic. I found a FB post from several years ago and must share it if only to show my total lack of improvement. It was back to school time, getting three ready for the first time. And I quote:

I do not have time to do a full rendering of the new schedule, but am flabbergasted by my new discovery on the importance of sleep; only for me evidently, not the children. I have aged 3 years in 4 days with the new sleep schedule. Yes, I know, it will be worse in 3 months when our fourth person arrives and please stop telling me that. When we have our new person, people at the pediatrician’s office will no longer ask if I am the grandmother but if the baby is my great grand. Already I remember nothing. I have missed four open houses in a week (though two due to root canals) and two because I forgot. Also blanked on my sons’ sandwich yesterday and when I was asking what he had for lunch in hopes that I had really not forgotten, he replied, “Cheezits.”

And so, we begin again, our 6th year of real school and we have FIFTEEN more years to go. I am sure I will look back and wish I could do it all over again, but today I don’t. I am just trying to survive so I will drink a jug of coffee and enjoy the bit of peace. This rat is exhausted.

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