Our mornings in Casa de Rose are very regulated. I sometimes think of all the elements as being like a row of dominoes; each one has to go in it’s place so that each domino can get knocked down in turn. In our house each thing has to happen in the right order or something will get forgotten, which in turn can cause either mild frustration or acute annoyance. To whit, my lunch might get forgotten (mild annoyance) or the keys locked in the house (pretty big setback). obviously this only holds true for weekday mornings, thankfully our weekends tend to be a little more relaxed.
From Monday to Friday the routine is the same. My alarm clock gurgles (it’s one of those annoying ‘nature sounds’ machines that sounds like nothing that can be found in actual nature) at 6:50am. I hit snooze and doze until 7 at which time I lurch myself out of bed grabbing my water bottle as I go. If I’m in luck I’ll actually remember where some of my workout clothes are hiding and I’ll be able to escape the bedroom fairly quietly.
I meander to the bathroom for a quick early morning ritual (pee, brush teeth, strip, weigh myself, groan, put on exercise clothes…) and I head to the living room. There I stand in front of the tv and preview a few episodes of Denise Austin’s Morning Workout deciding whether I want to tone my thighs and butt or work out my upper body. At this point M stumbles out of the bedroom and into the shower.
I workout while he does his thing in the bathroom and keep working out as he starts having breakfast. He thinks it’s a hoot to step over me as I crunch my way to tighter abs on his way to get the newspaper.
When the stars align C will sleep through all this, waking as I am finishing up my stretching routine. Most other times she wakes up while M is still in the shower so I get to exercise with my half pint at my side, either mimicking me or holding on to my leg, neither option being ideal. If she wakes up after M is out of the bathroom, but before I’m done with my workout I’ll pause it where ever I am (thank you DVR) and I’ll get her up and changed and deposit her in the kitchen to enjoy some yummy Cheerios with her daddio. Once in a blue moon C will sleep until I’m almost out of the shower, meaning that M gets to read the paper in peace for once.
At this point I usually realize that it’s almost 7:40 and I had better get my patootie into the shower so that M can leave at 8. Exactly three minutes later as the water hits my back I forget that I am short on time and I loose myself in the joy that is a steamy shower. (The shower is the only spot in the house where C is unlikely to follow as the water seems to scare her. It’s very selfish of me, but I don’t plan on trying to change her mind about this any time soon.) All too soon the banging on the door crashes me back to reality and forces me to turn the water off. Almost immediately my alone time is up and the bathroom is invaded, M to say goodbye, C to say hello.
From this moment on things get a little bit looser. C and I now have almost an hour to get dressed, do our hair, and get our things together for the day. We also have to find time to give C her nebulizer treatment and watch a little Elmo. Despite having almost a full 60 minutes to do all of this I usually still end up rushing around and forgetting half of the things I need to take with me.
On mornings when everything all meshes it feels like a complex choreography written just for us. We all move around each other, meeting at specific points for morning kisses or goodbye hugs. On those days I leave the house feeling energized and great about life in general.
On mornings when we miss a step or two everything is out of whack for the rest of the day. I miss more and more steps along the way and the frustration builds until we get home and the balance gets a chance to be reestablished during the evening choreography, another beautiful dance performed by the same three star performers.