Good Morning

My mornings go as follows:
Dru is out the door before I'd like to be up.  Or maybe I'd like to be up and have fanciful ideas of having gone for a jog or even taken a shower, but I can't will my body to do it so, Dru is out the door before I finally pop out of bed.  And most mornings, that's how it is.  I pop.  I do it out of necessity because by the time I pop, I'm usually late. 

My mother was one of those stellar ladies who got up way before her children to take a walk and make breakfast.  She was always dressed and ready to go.  Me?  Not so much though I'd like to be. . . still working on it.

Mondays are pancakes, Tuesdays are hot cereal, Wednesdays are eggs, Thursdays hot cereal again, and Fridays are hot chocolate and toast.  At least that's the plan.  I mix them up in accordance with how many minutes I have to pull it together before Boy needs to be shooed out the door.  And when I say shoo, I mean that too.  I tell him I'm kicking him out with much love at his backside 'cuz without the kick and the love, but mostly the kick, I don't think he'd ever leave.  He likes school well enough but he likes home more.  No complaints here that he prefers us but a motivation for punctuality would be nice.

Before breakfast can be served we gather to sing and pray.  Some mornings I'm singing solo with occasional breaks to remind the kids what their duty is at the moment - sing.  Each month, we rotate to choose a song from a hymnal.  I love singing with my children; better yet, I love to hear them singing these songs throughout their day.  Then prayer.  Prayer for safety and health, for wisdom as they make their choices and kindness towards others.  Then eat.  Then send Boy off. 

Then each of the boys reads to me.  Then they each play the piano for me and we mutually agree, it's time well spent.   I change diapers - they number 2 - and remind Lil' Miss that it's in her best interest to get dressed and brush her own hair.   I do a page or two from a workbook with Lil' Miss, dress myself and sometimes steal the time to shower.   And then, where has the time gone?  It's lunch and I need to send boys off to school. 

Last week the landowner dropped by.  Time was about 11am and I was mixing bread for dinner.  Breakfast was still on the table and the living room had toys strewn about it.  (Which, come any time of the day and breakfast may still be on the table.  And toys in the living room is just part of living in a room round this joint.)  As good fortune would have it, we kept our conversation to the deteriorating porch, unsightly bushes in the front, and the overhanging tree that needed trimmed, and as she left I sighed with relief that she hadn't asked to come in.  Because although I'd been busy most the morning, I really had nothing to prove for it.  Nothing except for happy kids and a happy mama.  That's a lot of proof if you know what to look for, and past.