We’re still firmly entrenched in the Transition to a Family of Four Make It Up As We Go Period around these parts.  So far, no one has lost an eye or a limb, and we’ve only resorted to sausage cheese balls for dinner like ONCE.  So things are fair to moderate, I’d say.  As far as I can tell there are only two ZOMG whose-idea-was-it-to-have-two-kids times of each day, and they are 1. when I’m awake and 2. when I’m asleep.

HA.  I JOKE.  It’s just when I’m awake.

L often leaves before any of the others of us are up, so most of my mornings consist of getting three people ready to go out the door by 8:40.  My scientific observation about this is that size is inversely proportional to the amount of preparation required for departure.  I’m the biggest, and therefore need to do one thing before leaving: find my keys. (You might think I’d say “change out of my thrice-worn pajamas” or “brush my furry teeth,” but that would be overestimating my standards for public appearance.)  Rosie, on the other hand is much, much smaller, and consequently must go through a whole series of events before getting locked and loaded into the car: 1. Take off pajamas, change diaper 2. Eat 3. Barf on everything within a two foot radius (note: this does not always result in me changing my clothes, in case you’re wondering why I Smell Like That) 4. Change clothes 5. Poop 6. Change diaper again 7. Barf again 8. Barf one more time 9. Put on hat 10. Get in car seat 11. Barf.

As you can see, it’s a process.

Noah falls somewhere in the middle, depending on the day.  Some days he gets ready before I’ve even staggered to the bathroom and spends the rest of the time before we leave with his body pressed against the door saying “IT’S EIGHT FOUR THREE MOM.  WE WERE SUPPOSED TO LEAVE AT EIGHT FOUR OH. RIGHT MOM? RIGHT?”  Other days getting him to the car is like trying to pull an angry mule out of quicksand with dental floss (what?).  He doesn’t WANT that shirt, it’s not his FASTEST shirt.  He doesn’t NEED a coat, it doesn’t feel cold to HIM.  WATCH HIM MOM, watch how high he can jump in just his underwear! WATCH. Also, he is STILL hungry, Mom.  Can’t he just have one waffle? Oh PLEEEEASE, Mom. MOM, JUST ONE WAFFLE.

The more caps lock involved, the later the car leaves the driveway.

There is brief respite for me while Noah is in school: I only have one kid to keep my eyeballs on.  If you had said to me almost three and a half years ago that in the future I would see a morning with a six week old as a break, I would have laughed. Nervously. And then maybe moved to Tahiti.  But the truth is that Noah and Rosie take two totally different kinds of energy, and when I’m with them both I have to have both those energies switched to ON.  When I’m just with Rosie, I can turn off some of that energy.  Like for example the Energy Required for (let’s get real: FAKE) Enthusiasm About the Clock Changing or the Energy Required for Answering Questions About the Afterlife.   That sort of thing.  Rosie tends to require mostly physical energy, with all the hoisting and schlepping and nursing and so forth.  She is not having any trouble in the Chunking Up area of newborn life.  See: Friday’s post.

I was also going to speak a little about the hours of 4-6pm, which some people like to call the Witching Hour.  I like to think of it a little more as the Eleventieth Circle of Hell.  However, that is another post for another day.  Now I need to go to bed so that I can rest up for the Get To School Juggle.

Here’s hoping for a lowercase morning.