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Mornings are for the birds

I’m not a morning person and this morning proves it.

At 6AM I’m up packing lunches, fumbling around in my state of near unconsciousness, hoping that it’s peanut butter I’m spreading on bread and not Crisco, and there is a cat hanging on the screen to the window over the kitchen sink looking very much like somebody shot him there from a slingshot.

Not only does he refuse to meow at the back door to be let in like all the other cats, he bleats loudly like a goat.

Mature adult that I am, I open the door and let him have it. “What’s the matter with you? I told you NOT to do that anymore. Look at my screen!”

Now the toddlers are awake.

In my agitation, I shuffle to the fridge to get the jam and step barefoot into the bowl of cat food. There’s nothing like the feel of turkey and giblets oozing between your toes…unless, of course, it’s tripping over the bowl of water and slipping face first into the fridge.

Helpful suggestion: Always place pudding in a plastic bowl with a lid. Then, if you happen to lurch forward into the refrigerator and reach for a shelf to regain balance, you don’t end up grabbing a fistful of banana pudding.

At that point, I have to ask myself this question. Do the kids really need to eat lunch?

So now I have cats licking my foot while I attempt to rinse the pudding off my hand and out of the sleeve of my robe.

Needless to say, I’m pretty perturbed and grumbling. Of course there are no dishtowels in the cupboard, so I blindly make my way down the dark hall to search for a towel in the laundry. My theory is simple: if the toddlers don’t see any light in the rest of the house, they’ll stop crying and go back to bed.

Naturally, this means I fail to see the gridlock of Matchbox cars the boys have left in the hallway and step on a few, performing a stunning pirouette and hop to the dryer while I curse and ram my knee into the very solid appliance.

At this point, I’m absolutely certain that mornings are for the birds.

And the cats. Hobbling back to the kitchen I find a cat sampling the peanut butter sandwiches. What on earth? If it were tuna, I’d understand. But peanut butter?

Sandwiches get tossed in the garbage and new ones are made. Chips, fruit and juice boxes are found and deposited in lunch bags. Success at last! My motherly duty has been performed and I have to say I’m somewhat proud of myself when I hear a small voice behind me.

“Mom? Can I buy a school lunch today?”

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