When I was Darius's age (shut up, it wasn't THAT long ago), I was a morning person. Sometime during college, that changed. Nowadays, I'm not a complete night owl either. I can stay up until midnight without yawning once. For all you whipper snappers, I realize that midnight is when most night clubs are just getting started. But for a full-time working mom, midnight is practically like pulling an all-nighter.
Transitioning back to school hours has been really tough for me. Getting up at 7:30am is hard when I went to bed at 12:20am. And I realize that all you commuters are now rolling your eyes and saying how easy I have it. I know, I know... working from home full-time is a blessing from God and I need to shut up about how hard it is to wake up at 7:30am when there are people commuting on the road before 5 o'clock in the morning.
I know it's not fair that my commute consists of six steps to my computer. It's not like I asked to work from home full-time. I just lucked out. And I know that lucky me shouldn't complain about it.
But I'm a complainer. What can I say?
Getting up at 7:30am sucks. Making sure that Darius is up and stays focused to do THREE tasks in FORTY-FIVE minutes is truly and utterly exhausting. I mean, did you know that it can take TWENTY minutes just to put on a shirt and pants... a shirt and pants, by the way, that are the SAME every single day because the child wears a school uniform! I swear I'm practically chugging shots of coffee to take the edge off during the morning hour.
At the private school, Neville was in charge of drop-off. On rare occasion, he had a work conflict that put him in the office before 7am when then put me on drop-off duty. A joy really. Half of the time when we headed out the door to school, I was still in my pajamas. Thank god the school had a car drop-off where the teachers open your passenger door and escort your child onto campus. Throw a fleece jacket on top & my giant sunglasses over yesterday's smeared mascara, and you probably wouldn't know that I didn't have a bra on.
Every single time that I was responsible for drop-off, Darius would demand that I walk him to his classroom like Daddy does every single morning. When I was actually dressed and didn't have a morning meeting, I acquiesced to Darius's demand and walked him in. Which I quickly learned was a total waste of time. As soon as the kid got within 100 feet of the playground, he took off like a sprinter in the Olympics. No good-bye Mom. No kiss. No see ya later.
In the car, I get a kiss.
In the car, I get a "I love you."
In the car, I get a "Have a great day."
And did I mention that I don't have to wear my bra in the car?
This year, we've been incredibly lucky to have our next door neighbor walk Darius and her daughter to school every morning. Incredibly lucky. Beyond lucky.
The only problem is that when they knock on the door, I'm never ready. I'm always still in my pajamas. I'm nearly always without a bra. And I don't have a car door blocking the view. Every morning, after I've embarrassed myself at our front door, I say to myself that starting tomorrow, I am going to get dressed as soon as I get up. But then the next morning comes round and I spent 45 minutes getting my eldest child to do three things while getting my youngest child to stop doing 3 million things that will hurt him, break something, or hurt him while breaking something.
Every morning when I hear that knock on the door, I know that I've failed at doing the three things I've been screaming at my second grader to do for the last 45 minutes. Although, I feel even better about myself when the nanny shows up 30 minutes later AND I'M STILL NOT DRESSED.
For the next three days, I have work commitments that require me to be ready and out the door before Darius gets picked up. Which means that my neighbors and my nanny won't know I'm not only wearing a bra, I am also dressed like a professional. With make-up on and hair styled. With high heels instead of house slippers. With a bra on.
I'm starting to feel like I need to take pictures and text it over to them with a caption that says "See? It is possible for me to not look like I've just rolled out of bed when the truth is that I've been up for almost 2 hours."
But who's kidding... there's a strong possibility that I'll be leaving the house with my hair still in rollers wearing a sweater I thought was clean but does in fact have a greasy hand-print from my toddler. That's how I roll these days. One thing it certain... for the next three days, I'll be wearing a bra.
You're welcome.
