Declan must be showering and getting ready. Ok, it's roughly 6:30-6:45am, I tell my sleepy-self. Almost time to start the clock on this day officially.
I hear the chattering again. My brain finally returns to me when I realize that chatterbox is Lucy waking up Emeline, again. I jump up faster than I know is possible and dash toward their door to save Em from yet another rude awakening.
I literally run into Declan with arms-full-of-Lucy in the hallway. He already saved the day. He throws the chatterbox back in bed with me to cuddle and Emeline still gets to sleep in peace. I breathe a little sigh of relief.
She presses her little smooshy face against mine and we whisper chat about her sleep. She tells me she tried to wake up her sissy. We talk about the day ahead, and that it's a school day, and I wonder what you'll have for snack today? She tells me she's going to play with the yellow playdoh, and paint a picture using 'on-nange' (orange), and she'll give it to me, even though I tried to persuade her to give it to daddy for his office. (I already have 4 purple paintings from last week.)
A delicious-smelling-freshly-showered man leans over the bed and kisses us both goodbye. He talks to Lucy for a few seconds about the exciting day of preschool coming, she tells him she loves him in her cute Lucy voice. I tell him to drive safe, I always say that.
We finally decide it's time to go downstairs--but the chill in the air means that it's a robe-day, so we both go on the hunt. She decides to barrel into her room looking, but I intervene (wrangle-the-lion) just in time to save Emeline's slumber once again. We still didn't find the robe. But I found mine.
We make it downstairs without disturbing the big girl.
I click the coffee machine on.
It feels like an eternity for it to heat up, so I start pouring milk for the girls and putting together a hodge-podge of breakfast items on their plate. Some egg bake, a little greek yogurt, grapes. I don't put huge portions on their plates--I figure they'll eat about a quarter of it anyway. I am usually right.
I have to chase Lucy down once already when I realize she got halfway up the steps proclaiming, "I wake sissy up NOW!" No. no. god, please no. Let her sleep. Dealing with one kid at a time in the morning is a rare, beautiful thing.
Finally, finally---my coffee is brewing. I pour in a little almond milk, sprinkle a little cinnamon and pumpkin pie spice on top, and I eat a few of the leftover grapes hanging around.
Lucy refuses to sit at the kitchen table today. It would cause a big, huge fight to get her there--she prefers the island, sitting on a rickety, old stool that she always gets stuck on. She's watching the pbs kids app on the iPad, since she's alone, she feels like hot stuff having control over it, since normally Emeline takes the reign on that. So I let her be.
I open up my laptop. Sip in some liquid crack, cough, coffee, I mean. Stuff a piece of egg-bake in my mouth. I look up and I see a raggedy-bed-headed Emeline trickling down the steps, in her oversized hand-me-down nightgown she's obsessed with, holding tight to her rapunzel pillow.
Good morning, baby.
I see her eyes begin to well up with tears the second her feet hit the kitchen floor.
I walk over and kneel down in front of her to give her a big morning hug and find out what's making her sad, thinking maybe a bad dream lingered, you know, something serious.
I don't want Lucy to have the iPad....I....I....I want it.
Within 5 minutes they forget about the whole thing and run off to play tea party, with real water, and real spills.
They only eat a quarter of their breakfast as I expected.
So begins another beautiful, messy, crazy day.