Before children:
Wake up, bright and early and well-rested since Mr. Husband generally doesn't wake up crying in the middle of the night.
Put in contacts, use the bathroom, dress in running clothes.
Run before it gets hot. Feel like a gazelle.
Come home, stretch, and shower. The end.
With children:
Wake up. Feel groggy as all get-out, but decide that I can conquer the world today because Lady Infant didn't begin her you'll-never-sleep-train-me shenanigans until 5 AM.
Diapers for the small crowd, coffee for the large ones, and breakfast all around. Low blood sugar only ensures toddler shenanigans.
Debate with self about how to wear out Sir Toddler to ensure a nap. A quick sniff of the air signals round two of diapers.
Wrangle kids into clothes.
Realize it's already 9 AM. Let's skip the shower and try to rock workout chic.
Since I'm dressed in running clothes, I guess I should finally use the jogger for actual jogging.
Round three of diapers.
Fill water bottles, check diaper bag, put shoes on shoe-wearers. Remember that the tires were under-inflated during our last stroller jaunt.
Secure Sir Toddler in the living room with gates, restrain Lady Infant in the jumperoo in the kitchen, and retrieve tire pump from basement. Also grab diapers from the washing machine but I really want to get going so instead of hanging them up, I leave them in a wet heap in the kitchen.
Walk past fussing Lady Infant, hop over gate-hurdle one, leave tire pump, grab keys, hop over gate-hurdle two, out the door to retrieve stroller from the trunk of the car.
Assemble stroller. Did I mention that we have to take the wheels off to get it to fit in the trunk of our family vehicle?
Drag stroller unto the front porch. Sir Toddler has discovered a secret compartment in the tire pump that contains tiny needles. Confiscate, take tire pump outside, and pump tires while toddler frets about possible loud noises that may ensue from the tire pump.
Drag stroller onto the grass, retrieve children, diaper bag, and water, and get children buckled in before somebody walks by and decides that our stroller is up for grabs. I dream of a garage. Or a driveway.
Remember that Mr. Husband reported that the stroller was pulling in one direction the very first time we used the lock on the front wheel. Can't remember which way or how to fix it, so we run with the front wheel set to swivel.
Commence pushing roughly 3/4 of my body weight on wheels. Hot, sweaty, slow, and pathetic is the name of the game. Snap a shadow selfie.
As we near home, I realize that I will go insane if Sir Toddler doesn't nap today. Stop at a little spot in the town center to let him run himself ragged.
By the time we get home, everyone is whine-crying for lunch. Including me. Unbuckle everyone, bring children and diaper bag inside, run back out and drag stroller onto the porch. Make sandwich for toddler, slice peace for baby, restrain everyone in boosters, and hang up diapers while everyone eats. Cook and eat lunch standing up, and oh, I'd better look up the instructions on fixing the swivel wheel incaseitsreallycomplicatedandwilltakeallnaptimetofix...
oh. ok.
Wash dishes and water plants while kids are relatively content.
Convince Sir Toddler to go upstairs with me to "help change Lady Infant's diaper."
Round 4 of diapers. Put children in cages/cribs so I can
finally shower,
get dressed,
fix the stroller,
disassemble it and put it in the trunk,
and wonder when I'll have the mental energy for another morning like this.
the end.
Wake up, bright and early and well-rested since Mr. Husband generally doesn't wake up crying in the middle of the night.
Put in contacts, use the bathroom, dress in running clothes.
Run before it gets hot. Feel like a gazelle.
Come home, stretch, and shower. The end.
With children:
Wake up. Feel groggy as all get-out, but decide that I can conquer the world today because Lady Infant didn't begin her you'll-never-sleep-train-me shenanigans until 5 AM.
Diapers for the small crowd, coffee for the large ones, and breakfast all around. Low blood sugar only ensures toddler shenanigans.
Debate with self about how to wear out Sir Toddler to ensure a nap. A quick sniff of the air signals round two of diapers.
Wrangle kids into clothes.
Realize it's already 9 AM. Let's skip the shower and try to rock workout chic.
Since I'm dressed in running clothes, I guess I should finally use the jogger for actual jogging.
Round three of diapers.
Fill water bottles, check diaper bag, put shoes on shoe-wearers. Remember that the tires were under-inflated during our last stroller jaunt.
Secure Sir Toddler in the living room with gates, restrain Lady Infant in the jumperoo in the kitchen, and retrieve tire pump from basement. Also grab diapers from the washing machine but I really want to get going so instead of hanging them up, I leave them in a wet heap in the kitchen.
This is what happens when I leave Lady Infant alone in a room for a few minutes.
Walk past fussing Lady Infant, hop over gate-hurdle one, leave tire pump, grab keys, hop over gate-hurdle two, out the door to retrieve stroller from the trunk of the car.
Assemble stroller. Did I mention that we have to take the wheels off to get it to fit in the trunk of our family vehicle?
Drag stroller unto the front porch. Sir Toddler has discovered a secret compartment in the tire pump that contains tiny needles. Confiscate, take tire pump outside, and pump tires while toddler frets about possible loud noises that may ensue from the tire pump.
Drag stroller onto the grass, retrieve children, diaper bag, and water, and get children buckled in before somebody walks by and decides that our stroller is up for grabs. I dream of a garage. Or a driveway.
Remember that Mr. Husband reported that the stroller was pulling in one direction the very first time we used the lock on the front wheel. Can't remember which way or how to fix it, so we run with the front wheel set to swivel.
Commence pushing roughly 3/4 of my body weight on wheels. Hot, sweaty, slow, and pathetic is the name of the game. Snap a shadow selfie.
As we near home, I realize that I will go insane if Sir Toddler doesn't nap today. Stop at a little spot in the town center to let him run himself ragged.
By the time we get home, everyone is whine-crying for lunch. Including me. Unbuckle everyone, bring children and diaper bag inside, run back out and drag stroller onto the porch. Make sandwich for toddler, slice peace for baby, restrain everyone in boosters, and hang up diapers while everyone eats. Cook and eat lunch standing up, and oh, I'd better look up the instructions on fixing the swivel wheel incaseitsreallycomplicatedandwilltakeallnaptimetofix...
Wash dishes and water plants while kids are relatively content.
Convince Sir Toddler to go upstairs with me to "help change Lady Infant's diaper."
Round 4 of diapers. Put children in cages/cribs so I can
finally shower,
get dressed,
fix the stroller,
disassemble it and put it in the trunk,
and wonder when I'll have the mental energy for another morning like this.
the end.
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