I wake up at 3:10am every morning, at least Monday through Friday. Saturday too, if I have to go into the job that helps put food on the table for my children to complain about. It also helps put Hollister on my son’s back and LOL’s into my daughter’s hands. But they don’t think about those items when they’re complaining about the food.
I get up and let my dogs outside to empty their tanks and get me my very own cup ‘sanity’. One scoop of generic stevia and one scoop of french vanilla creamer; name brand, sugar free, Coffee Mate French Goodness Of Vanilla.
If I don’t hit my snooze button too many times I try to get some stretches in, then loosen up on some heating pads.
The stretching and heating pads were recommended by my physical therapist. I have back pain brought on my stress and an early onset of arthritis, but what mom and wife doesn’t have stress. I’ll try not to whine too much about it.
I try not to lay on the heating pads and contemplate my life for too long, I still have so much to do before I leave for the day. But if I’m able to zone out or pray, I take advantage of it.
After about 10-15 minutes, I force myself out of the warm and cozy chair that hugs me, like a person dressed up as Mickey Mouse would a child visiting Disneyland, and start to feed my animals. All 9 of them. 5 dogs and 4 cats. I clean the cat litter boxes, then clean all their bowls and refill them, making sure they’re ready for when I have to feed them dinner later.
I don’t understand why I have so many animals! I love them, but who needs 9 animals on top of the crap I already have to do? I’m an idiot.
I give myself about 10-15 minutes to check my emails and surf the web for something to keep me interested while I get ready for the day.
I floss and brush my teeth. No kidding, I really do floss. I’m not lying like I used to tell the dentist. I started flossing when I found out I had 2 gigantic cavaties I can’t really afford to fix and realized I could now only chew on the left side of my mouth. Hey, it’s never to late to start. I hope. Then I wash my face.
I sit in the tiny chair in my tiny bathroom, in front of my tiny mirror; one side normal, the other magnified x 10, while I contemplate the crap I do to my face and hair every morning.
I pluck my eyebrows. Then I apply concealer, powder, blush, mascara, and I re-draw on my eyebrows.
I question myself as I write it. I pull out my eyebrows…then draw them back on. Insane.
Then I heat up my straight iron to 5,000 degrees and use it to make my hair look like I didn’t just wake up from a night of restless sleep. I spend 20 minutes, starting from the bottom and moving gradually to the top, taking small chunks of hair and burning the crap out of them to make it look smooth and shiny. Sometimes I leave my bangs down, sometimes I put them up. It’s a surprise as to what I’m going to do everyday. I live for the excitement.
Then I hairspray all the stragglers, that always seems to stick straight up, down. They never stay down, those traitorous a-holes.
I always stand in front of the mirror for a few more minutes, once the transformation is complete, to contemplate the gray strands of hair on the very front of my hairline, just to the right. I can’t go gray evenly, the gray hairs gotta be a-holes too. Then I tell myself I’m going to get the color kit (that’s been in my cabinet for 3 months) out this weekend and cover it up. I’ve been repeating that mantra for 3 months now.
Why, oh why, do we put ourselves through this?
I like to watch documentaries about history.
In a lot of those documentaries I’ve seen men in some sort of make-up; eyeliner, face powder, lip and cheek rouge, etc. From the Ancient Egyptians, to the late middle ages and the renaissance period to the Ancient Greeks. The men wore more make up and fake hair than the women!
Why have we been stuck applying this crap, among other horrifying requirements of beauty?
After I get ready I have to get my 5 year old daughter up and ready to go.
Sometimes she gets up before I’m done with my routine. If this happens, I use the reward system to help me bribe her, with her tablet, to get herself ready and make sure the process runs without complaint. Mornings are hard, for both of us, I do what I have to do.
Some mornings she doesn’t wake up on her own, so then it’s up to me to wake the 5 year old dancing, fashionista, diva beast.
Sometimes I forget to wake her up on time, getting caught up in the insanity of what I feel I have to do with myself before I walk out of my front door every morning. I also have to contemplate the universe and what it has in store for me that day, that week, that month, and possibly later that year. And then there’s the past… yeah, I forget about waking up my daughter sometimes, sue me.
What gets me every time, is that “The Kraken”, dancing, fashionista, diva beast didn’t even want to go to bed the night before! Why is she giving me such a hard time about waking up?
The “Let’s Get Ready to RUMBLE!” ensues, about what she’s going to wear and the time it takes her to put the clothes onto her body. She wants to do everything herself, she’s an Independent Woman now. But, she lags, rolls on the floor, nags and whines if I pick something out for her to wear. I’m sure she’s not the only child doing it at this very second. Who cares if her clothes match, “You do you, girl!”. You’ve got to learn what battles to fight and which ones to throw the white flag at.
I’ve learned, in the last year or so, how to wake her up in a good mood. If I can remember to do it on time, I tickle her feet softly and rub her back. I speak softly to her, and comb the hair away from her face with my fingers. I try to make her laugh with silly voices, or a light tickle. And, yes, I tell her she can watch her favorite show on her tablet. That really does the trick. She’s up and moving, and in a good mood!
She gets tablet time after she gets herself ready and until we get her to school. And then she’s off to 8 hours of brain food and play.
Next on my list, now that she’s ready: I check the thermostat, turn off the lights, let the dogs out, grab my lunch, put something out for dinner that night, get my refill of coffee for the ride to work and my water bottle for later, grab her a breakfast snack and her preschool homework, and we’re out the door by no later than 645am. Oh, wait, I forgot my breakfast again. Get out of the car, unlock the door, grab a few bananas, or breakfast bars, that I can eat on the way there.
I wonder why my husband wakes up most mornings in a bad mood? He gets up at 4:15am, gets dressed and brushes his teeth and gets dressed. Sometimes he pushes his limits and takes a shower. He puts the dishes away from the night before and packs his lunch box, usually with easy to open snacks, and fills up his coffee cups. Then he’s off for the day by 5am, no later, sometimes sooner.
My husband should really learn to contain his early morning blues.