Today at 5:42am my little girl, light of my life, started talking from her room. In the midst of making my husband his lunch (which I do for him because I love him and, lets face it, I like to feel all wifey every so often) I felt my body instantly sag. Though I love her to the moon and back the thought of not being able to go back to bed for a couple more hours literally made my soul wither a little bit. I’m probably not supposed to admit that, right? Well it’s true and I will tell you why. Instead of going back to sleep I get to experience the following:
I am sitting at my computer table, writing out this post. If my daughter had been asleep this would be just another peaceful morning. But she’s awake so minor chaos must ensue.
Just a moment ago I called my daughter to see what she was doing. Her name is Amelia. She’s just over a year old, looks like a two or three year old and acts like me. Anyway, she was being too quiet and I knew she was in our bedroom getting up to mischief. Sure enough, a moment after I called her she came walking out carrying an (almost) empty package of Q-tips. Mind you, the package was full the last time I saw it. Sure enough there was a trail leading back to the carnage.
And as I am typing this lovely post I hear the sound of something clattering to the floor (also in our bedroom) followed by a clear, “Uh oh.” Ladies and gentlemen, my daughter. To be honest at the moment I am not caffeinated enough to care that my bedroom could be in shambles. The room is going to stay that way until I finish my cup of joe.
I ask other parents out there to let me know what your mornings consist of. Do you have a set routine or do you like to just let things happen and see where the day goes? Seriously, let me know. I want to know if anyone else has handprints on their TVs.