Morning mayhem

by tess

3:29 Wellington kneads the bedspread, clawing the seams out, trying to awaken her brother.
3:31 Irritated, Welli's mother kicks the bed (NOT THE CAT!) to make her stop.
3:34 Wellington plays with a binder clip on the dresser, successfully awakening her brother.
3:47 Quintus trounces across his mother's chest for the third time.
4:13 A thunderstorm rolls in and the cat flap shoots open as Quinty sprints away from The Rainforest (aka the screened porch) to dry off in his mother's loving embrace.
4:14 Quinty wakes up Welli.
4:36 Having knocked her glasses, watch, and wedding ring to the floor, Quintus leaps, claws first, from the dresser onto his mother's legs.
4:44 Welli climbs to her mother's pillow requesting a belly massage.
5:02 Choir practice begins. After three choruses of the Whutchuduin-Now-Ma-How-About-a-Little-Breakfast-Here blues, Quinty's mother glares at him and informs him that it's not time yet.
5:13 Quintus leaps to the 2" wide headboard, scrambles, and falls onto his father's still-snoring head.
5:26 Quinty returns to the headboard and attempts to climb the frame of the extremely heavy, glass-fronted print hanging above his parents' heads. For the first time in his short life he is told NO, BAD BOY and is thrown/falls unceremoniously from the headboard to the floor.
5:27 His mother feels guilty for yelling and is now two hours past any hope of sleep. Still, she knows better than to reward the bad behavior by feeding him right away.
5:32 Certain that he's forgotten The Picture-Climbing Incident, she slogs out of bed to feed The Monsters.
5:39 She returns to bed, praying for just 20 minutes of sleep before her alarm rings.
6:01 The litter box digging-and-chasing ritual begins.
6:17 Yawning, Wellington returns to bed.
6:23 Quinty cuddles snoozily between his parents for a little nap.
6:29 The alarm rings and the day begins.

Considering that I can just barely survive my mornings, I have tremendous respect for parents who manage to deal with crying babies, whining toddlers, and sullen teens in those precious pre-dawn until office-drone hours. I simply cannot fathom how one wakes, dresses, and feeds children while simultaneously signing homework, making lunches, defrosting dinner, and (occasionally) smiling. Only to be told that four dozen cupcakes are due to the principal's office by 9 AM and that a forgotten Science Fair project is due by third period OR ELSE. Parents of the world, I salute you. I'm exhausted just thinking about your mornings!