Morning routines

This morning I kicked JL out of bed at 6:30 so he could rush to class. As I sleepily directed him to clean pants and received hasty goodbye kisses, I thought about all of the laundry I needed to get done. And what I wanted to eat for breakfast. And how I really had to go to the bathroom. And take my medication.

I rolled my full belly out of bed, got a swift kick from the fetus for crowding their space, and took care of my business. I rolled back into bed. A bus went by. Walter grumbled. Another bus went by. I heard a piercing, "DADA! BABA!" I rolled back out of bed. I stumbled into the kitchen and filled up a bottle with soy milk. I stumbled down the hallway and opened the nursery door. I was received with a questioning look from my son, a "Dada?", and then, "BABA!!!!"

I got back into bed. Walter went back to sleep. I paused. I rolled out of bed and walked back into the kitchen. It was clean. The counters were bare. The table was empty. For a moment, I thought I had been robbed. Then I remembered that I cleaned it. All was well.

I went back to sleep.

I greeted the day thirty minutes later to a husband sliding back into bed with a quick kiss on my neck and a whispered, "Good morning, beautiful."

Best. Morning. Ever.