I am not a morning person.
But I signed up to drive son to school every morning and so I am trying to become this mythical morning person I hear so much about. Much like the "I can't go to sleep till my kitchen is clean" creature that I have heard people speak of. Trying to become a showered, cheerful, perky, well wishing, alert driving, mother. Instead of the wild haired, wild eyed, groggy, pajama wearing mother waving at the bus as it drives away.
The first day of my new morning routine, I returned home from son's drop off, put PBS on the television for daughter, lay down on the sofa to "rest my eyes" and passed out in a drooly middle aged nap while Dora played on. Waking up with a startled "Who? What? Huh?" realization that my daughter could have painted me from head to toe with a black Sharpie and I would have slept through it. So much for the morning snooze.I feel confident after this week that I will never become a morning person. But..I think, in time, I might be able to start remembering to wear my shirt right side out and shotgunning that soda with minimal spillage. And I'm up! I'm up already!
The second day I used son's number two pencil to pierce and subsequently shotgun several Diet Dr. Peppers on the way to school. I did manage to stay awake till bedtime that night. Bedtime = me passed out with my head in husband's lap and snoring while he watched the 9 O'clock news.
The third day I used so many mentholated, eucalyptus scented bath products to wake up with that I smelled like I had a Vick's Vabor Rub fetish and couldn't feel my shoulders until noon. Realized later that I wore my shirt inside out all day.
The fourth day I microwaved a bowl of oatmeal in an attempt to be healthy and fortify myself. It overflowed and the microwave door might possibly be welded shut forever with oat paste. Didn't have time to shower and drove son to school wearing slippers, pjs and much to his relief a bra.
The fifth day I got up early enough to take a walk before husband left for work and had to talk myself out of curling up for "just a minute" on every bench, porch swing and patch of grass that I passed by the entire stroll.
The sixth day I woke up, poured each child a mixing bowl full of cereal, handed them the remote, tried to go back to sleep but was awoken by the "knock knock knock'n" of a frustrated husband whose wife has passed out at 9 O'clock every night that week.
The seventh day I pretended to follow husband out of the bedroom, took a quick pee, then quickly ran back into the room, shut the door, pushed the quilt stand up against it and leaped into bed pulling the covers over my head. Ignored the fists pounding at the door and drifted off into the glorious Hawaii that is sleeping in.