Why does 6:00 a.m. sometimes feel like 3:30 a.m.? I mean really, it felt like an absolutely unearthly hour and I wasn't too happy about having to get up and moving. The boys were headed out to play racquetball and needed to be up, dressed, fed, and out of the house by 6:40. I'm usually a morning person and can perk up pretty quickly. I guess mornings like this are meant to give me some sympathy for people who aren't exactly "morning people", because we have a few of those over here. It's not like they don't get up early, but the rest of us usually try and steer clear until they seem to be out of zombie mode.
I dragged my pajama clad body to the kitchen, only opening my eyes every four or five steps so I could make sure I was still on the right path. I was trying not to talk until I was sure only nice words would come out. Struggling to clear the cobwebs from my brain, I concentrated on breakfast. Why do these people have to eat so often? Why am I out of cold cereal? Why are people making noise? I loudly shushed everyone. Didn't they know my plan? It was way to many words to form at this level of consciousness, but I had every intention of the babies sleeping through all of this so I could steal a few more precious moments myself after they left. I tried to communicate all of this with the intensity of my "SHHHHH!!!" That combined with the manic look on my face seemed to get my point across. Whole wheat pancakes (please don't be impressed, I did not grind the wheat myself- it was Lehi Mill's add water only) made with my eyes half closed, forcing my lids open when I thought it was time to flip, soothed my slight guilt about the consuming thoughts of getting them OUT of the house and me back IN bed. At least I made them a good breakfast, right?
Once they all had shoes on, breakfast in, racquets out, I practically ran to my room. Jody was tying his shoes and seemed to be a little surprised that I dove back into bed and pulled the covers over my head. (This isn't all that usual for me). Then I heard it- the dreaded noise of a baby crying right when I was on the verge of slipping back into dreamless bliss. Jody must have noted the panic on my face because before I knew it he had deposited Brooklyn, with blanket and paci (I know, I know) next to me and I soothed her back to seep with a whispered princess story. We were dozing off when I heard the last set of footsteps and the click of the door closing.
Brookie cooperated long enough to let me get an extra 30 or 40 minutes. The other two were still sleeping, so we breakfasted together, just the girls. Boys still sleeping. Then we showered and got dressed. Boys still sleeping. Then we did our hair. Boys still sleeping. Read a book. Boys still sleeping. A glance at the clock let me know it was about time to pick up the boys. We woke up the little boys, fed them, and threw them into the car, syrupy pajamas and all, and off we went.
I called Jody to say good morning (I don't think I had found anything particularly good about the morning earlier, and don't think I muttered more than ten words) and that's when I noticed the police car behind me. This is also when I recalled that I hadn't stuck the new registration sticker on. No problem, I do have the paper in my car showing I paid. It's right there with the proof of insurnace. There, in that cubby. But wait, why is that cubby...empty? Then it hit me. I had the car detailed a few days before and they had put everything they found in each nook, cranny, shoved between seats, and the cubby with important papers, in a big plastic garbage bag. Believe me, it had to be big. I had taken it into the house to sift through it, and there it still sat- on the floor in the laundry room. How was I going to explain this? The police car mimicked my left turn and then my lane change. This wasn't looking good. A mile down the road and him still on my tail, I was preparing my defense. "Really officer, the car wash story is true. I have eight kids. The three days after I have it washed are the only days my car looks this clean. The papers are in that bag I was telling you about. You know, the one with the old school papers, fruit snack wrappers, primary talk slips (remember that paper I gave you mom?), the rock hard chicken nugget and other unidentifiable pieces of food. If you follow me to the racquetball courts and then back home, I'm pretty sure I could dig them out for you!" Still in my lane and directly behind me another mile later, I was starting to feel annoyed. Pull me over already! Let's just get this over with! I hate being pulled over. I feel like a little girl who just got spanked. Not that I was spanked as a little girl, but it's how I imagine I'd have felt. Suddenly, he changed lanes and turned the other direction. Whew! Dodged that bullet.
The rest of the day progressed nicely. Caden and I went to Brooklyn's swimming lessons where we got to watch her scream in terror and anger every time it was her turn. There she would flail, just under the surface of the water shaking her head "NO" as Emily would tell her to kick to the side. Man that girl is stubborn. I held my breath every time it was her turn and spent the time in between holding and comforting her, trying not to think about the very large wet spot she left on my lap which made me look like I'd had a very large accident. Apparently terror, anger, and swimming are a very exhausting combination, because she fell asleep on the way home. The afternoon was surprisingly peaceful. I even got some time to lay on the couch and read my latest book, "A Tale of Two Cities"(thanks Amy). My kids didn't even disturb me when I dozed off for a few minutes. When nap time was over we went to my mom's to go shopping in her pantry. They're leaving for Africa next month and she wants her pantry empty, and I was happy to oblige. The evening turned into one of those spontaneously fun ones. Jody met us there and we ended up staying for hours. We ate dinner together under the misted ramada, enjoying the unusually cool and breezy June night. We sat and visited until past bedtime. When we pulled into the driveway the little ones were sleeping. We cradled them straight to their beds, had family prayer, and all hit the sack.
What started as a not so great day turned out....perfect.
