I am not a morning person.

I have childhood memories of my mother literally, physically dragging me out of bed as I fought her off in a sleepy haze. I also have unfortunate memories of hitting the snooze button way too many times in my early adult life, and consequently rushing to work/class/anything I ever had to attend before 10:00 AM. I would shamelessly burn rubber into the Starbucks drive thru and risk running another 10 minutes behind schedule. There was no way on God’s Green Earth I would make it through the lecture (that had already started) or bank teller shift (that started in 4 minutes) without a venti-with-an-extra-shot dose of caffeine. Once the first few sips of coffee were ingested, my eyes would open up. The world was no longer a bright, glaring, evil place. I would realize the sun was out and I had stuff to get done. I would silently scold myself for sleeping in as I muttered an apology to my boss or professor. I would run to my seat and get to work. Crap. Late again.

If you are a “tsk-tsking morning person”, you should know that I am fully aware and ashamed of the fact that if I hadn’t hit the snooze for 45 minutes I would have been on time. I envy your ability to pop out of bed in a cheery-ass, obnoxious mood and begin your day without wasting $5 on a large coffee. That must be so great for you! For me that morning struggle was REAL. So keep your “tsking” to yourself. Thanks.

Suddenly I became a mother in my mid-twenties, and I also had to become a morning person whether I liked it or not. It wasn’t too hard, actually. A tiny, helpless human crying for me was a good motivator. I bought a Keurig. I would wake up to feed the baby and then stumble over to the coffee machine. It wasn’t so bad. I even started watching the morning news while I sipped my coffee and ate some breakfast of my own. How grown up and “morning person” of me!

But, alas! Old habits die hard. I wish I could say I am a good mom who gets up with the sun to scramble eggs and start the laundry. I wish I could tell you that I am showered, dressed and watching the news while sipping my cup of coffee before my kids even wake up. I just am not. I usually stay asleep until one of my kids wakes up. I have come to terms with the fact that despite my best efforts at getting it together before 7:00 AM, I will never truly be a morning person. Just because I am usually awake by then doesn’t mean I enjoy it!

The. Struggle. Is. Still. Real.

Nowadays, my morning can go two completely different ways. This depends solely on which child wakes up first. (I suppose my morning could go a third way if I would just get my ass out of bed a half hour earlier…But that is not the point of this post…So I guess we won’t be discussing that third option today. Yea, I know. Tsk tsk.)

Morning #1:

Avery wakes up first. She tiptoes into my room and crawls into bed with me to snuggle. Sometimes she falls back asleep. (Yay! Bonus sleep!) When she is ready to get up she whispers, “Mommy, can we get up and have breakfast?” Nine times out of ten she will request Cheerios and banana. She usually lays in my bed until I tell her breakfast is ready, which gives me time to start my coffee and throw on some clothes in peace. She will tiptoe into the kitchen and eat, while I sip some coffee. Simple, easy and minimal dishes. She even puts her bowl in the sink when she is finishes. She usually asks to watch a kids’ show after, and I let her because she is just so darn good to me in the mornings. This gives me extra time to get a few things together before Emmy wakes up. The morning runs smoothly. Everybody is happy and satisfied. I love these mornings.

Morning #2:

Emmy wakes up first. I hear her stomp down the hall and fling open my door. I brace myself.

“Mommy! Wake up!” She stands right next to my face on the side of the bed.

“Mommy! OPEN EYES!” I open my eyes in bewilderment.

“I hungry.” She stares at me.

If I take more than 5 seconds to stretch and assemble my thoughts, she goes into full drill sergeant mode.

“Mommy! Time to wake up! Time to eat freckfast!” (She calls breakfast freckfast.)

I run to the bathroom and lock the door, because I know if I don’t she will be barging in there to harass me through all my business. She bangs on the door.

“MOMMY! YOU IN DER???”

Yes, honey. I am in here. You watched me walk in here.

“I HUNGRY!!! YOU HURRY UP??”

I stumble to the kitchen to get that coffee maker brewing, while she barks at my heels, “Cancakes! Mommy! Cancakes!” (She calls pancakes cancakes.)

“Muffins, Mom! Wif toast! And jelly. JELLY. MOM! THE JELLY IN DA FRIDGE!”

I shush her because I know where the damn jelly is. Tell her to keep her voice down and not to wake her sister. I suggest cereal. Granola bars. Yogurt. Fresh fruit. Please. Anything that doesn’t require pans, mixing bowls, eggs and effort.

“NO! I no eat dat! I want hot muffins. In oven. I want CANCAKES! BOOBERRY CANCAKES!!!” (Yep. She calls blueberries booberries.)

By this time Avery is groggily making her way down the hallway in just as much of a stupor as me, because all these noisy demands have woken her up too. Her eyes snap all the way open at the suggestion of blueberry pancakes. Now she chimes in, “Mommy, can you please make blueberry pancakes for us?” While Emmy doesn’t let up, “Yea, Mom! CANCAKESSSS! YAAAAYYY!”

Since I have been out of bed for approximately 3 minutes and haven’t had any coffee yet, I have no energy to fight it. I sigh and get out the mixing bowl while they skip laps around the kitchen table, chanting:

“Blueberry pancakes! BOOBERRY CANCAKES! Blueberry! BOOBERRY! Pancakes! CANCAKES! Yummy! HURRY! Yummy! HURRY!”

I make the pancakes, and they devour every bite on their plates. I manage to finally get that cup of coffee poured. Ahhhh. Bliss. My head clears. I look around. Maple syrup is on every surface of the kitchen. I wipe it all up. Now where are the kids? Probably touching all the TV remotes, tablets, and doorknobs we own with their sticky, maple syrup fingers. Oh well. Everybody is happy and satisfied, albeit we got there a different way than Morning #1.

Might as well sit back, relax and enjoy some booberry cancakes.

🙂 Kaitlyn

P.S. We pick our own blueberries every summer! Click here to find out how you can pick your own too!