Do you ever like....have a plan for how something is going to go? Like this magical Disney movie type scenario in your head, with all these little amazing details planned out....then you get to the execution of the plan and it all just goes to shit? Like, all of it. Shit. That's kind of how my morning went. Last night I had these grandeur plans of waking up my darling sleeping children, making their lunches (in a jaunty apron with little blue birds flying around my head helping me like tie the twist ties and singing and shit), gently coaxing them out the door only to stand on the porch and giggle while shaking my head slowly cause the youngest rascal forgot his lunch and is running back to fetch it then we'd laugh and laugh......coming back into the house and enjoying a steaming mug of perfectly brewed coffee, plugging into my iPhone and going for a run in the crisp mountain air (also adding 5 minutes to my overall run time with little or no effort), coming home feeling refreshed and dewy with
What really happened...
Tried to rouse the kids while they cried that they were too tired and fought me all the way. Went to make coffee and found out there was NO coffee. At all. Well, okay, that's a lie. There was a random bag of I don't even know what grounds of coffee from I don't even know when that I'm sure is mostly dust now and I couldn't bring myself to drink it cause it smelt like old people and despair. Fought with the kids about every aspect of their morning while shhhh'ing them every 2 seconds because the baby was still sleeping. Cried. Finally kicked them off to the bus, locked the door. Still no coffee. Baby still sleeping. Expecting husband home from work any minute with coffee...get a text that he's running way later then he thought and he's nowhere near coming home, with coffee. Cry more. Give up on morning and go back to bed. Sleeping baby still in bed, all warm and cuddly which is a plus. Crawl into bed and baby's diaper gives out and feel a warm puddle of pee down my arm/pj's/clean new fresh sheets/body. Fuck. Get up and phone my mom in tears to ask for coffee. Drive over there in my pj's and messy hair with baby crying in van. Mom laughs at my outfit and I die a little inside. Finally get home to make coffee and moms special mix of beans is weak and not yummy. Drink 1/2 pot anyways. Give up on dreams of run and stuff myself with bagels and chocolate cookies.
So as you can see, all though my reality morning and my dream morning were close to one another....it just didn't come together. As my dad always says "close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades" so there's that piece of wisdom. Now to go change a crappy diaper and turn up the furnace to spite my husband.