What the crack of dawn looks like from my end

So it’s 5:45 a.m. and I am awakened by the sound of my son whimpering. I lay there for a minute as it starts to escalate into the “mommy come and get me NOW” cry. I roll over, grab my PJ bottoms and drag my butt to my son’s room where he stands in his crib, arms open wide with what I swear is a smirk on his face. He knows the drill. He cries, mommy comes right in, lifts him up, changes his diaper and then snuggles him and kisses him as he just lies there with his head on mommy’s chest.

Meanwhile mommy is relaxing with eyes closed, sniffing the pure heaven that is my son’s head, almost asleep. This is one of the most peaceful times and just as I’m about to hit the clouds, my son squirms around and slides off my lap to toddle over to his bedroom door. He crouches down and pulls the spring as he now knows this is the way to open a door. I’m jolted out of my zone to jump up and lock the safety gate at the top of the stairs and shut the doors to his bathroom and my husband’s home office.

The daily routine begins. My son starts throwing his books and toys all over the playroom as I collapse on the couch. The cat jumps over the gate a couple times while my son chases her and whines to go downstairs. When I can finally muster up enough strength to snap out of zombieville, I take my son downstairs and plop him in his highchair. The cat gets her breakfast, my son gets his sippy cup of vanilla soymilk and a tray full of cheerios, and the magic caffeine serum that keeps me conscious starts dripping through the coffee pot.

Next stop is a visit from the Wiggles. Toot toot chugga chugga big red car, we travel near and we travel faaaaar. I’m plopped back on another couch as I relish in my cup of joe. My son nibbles cheerios and asks me “what’s that?” about a million times. I think I’ve repeated the words “bird”, “fish”, and “airplane” enough times to adequately fill the pages of an unabridged dictionary.

Eventually it’s my turn to choose the tv show while my son steers his little Dump Truck around the house. It’s now 7:30 a.m. and I have another half hour before we go back upstairs for his poopie diaper change. I open up my laptop and my son immediately wants to go back downstairs to eat breakfast. I let him make some noise for a while secretly hoping daddy will wake up. When he doesn’t, I give in and carry my son back downstairs. We start breakfast and guess who shows up?! Yep, it’s dada. Something about food and the male species…..