I believe I have mentioned that I am not a morning person. My mornings usually go something like this. First I start making my way to awareness because someone is making some noise and turning on lights in the bathroom and the closet. First, I realize that man making noise must be husband, so I must be married. Then I realize he is getting dressed in fancy duds so it must be a weekday. Then I ask myself, should I be getting up too? What day is it? That is the hardest one. Usually at this point I am a bit more cognizant and can come up with what yesterday was. This morning for instance I realized it was Friday and thus not a day I had to get up. Oh Happy Friday! Then my mind starts going over what I have to do today.
It is at this point I remember that I have children. Children whom I have chosen to educate at home, though for the life of me, at 6ish in the morning I cannot fathom why I would have made this choice.
Sir D comes over and kisses me good-by. I must often have a confused look on my face because he usually chuckles and tells me he’ll call me later. (he knows coherent speech is not a viable option before I’ve had coffee)
And now’s the time for honesty. Once Sir D leaves and the lights are out again. I lie back down and fall back asleep. Eventually sometime between 7:30 and 8 I begin to hear the children downstairs getting breakfast and the whole process of waking up begins again; though because I’ve already done it once it’s a bit quicker process.
I make my way downstairs to my offspring with ALL THE VOICES and have some coffee. Copious amounts of coffee. Then and only then am I me; intelligent (work with me here!) woman capable of educating her children and keeping a house. Sadly it takes me until almost 9 am to reach this state of readiness.
Then around 9:30 Sir D calls me to say good morning, because he knows now I am awake and remember who I am and can speak in complete sentences.