It's morning. The alarm has not sounded because, well, with 4 kids who needs to set an alarm? I'm struggling to rise from sleepyville into awakehood. I hate this journey; the slow realization that my bedroom is no longer dark, the first crack of the eyelid to reveal the television is still on from the night before, and then the remembering. I start to remember all the things I didn't get done the day before. Of course there is the laundry; I can pretty much count on that never being DONE. And then there are the dishes, oh the dishes. I did do them yesterday...after breakfast I think. But that was ages ago. That was before grilled cheese sandwiches and ice cream sundaes and homemade (who am I kidding here?) chicken noodle soup. Ok, fine, it was Campbell's, and it was mmm, mmm, good. But the stack of bowls and plates I can see all too clearly in my mind grows with every minute I lay in bed. I'll have to clean the bowls before breakfast, maybe there are still some clean spoons left, but probably not.
Then I hear it. The pitter patter of little feet coming toward my door. My precious angels have awakened and come to say good-morning. It is worth it. All the work, the cleaning, the cooking, the laundry, and even the dishes. To hear my 4 year old say those three little words every morning about this time, who could ask for anything more? I hear the knock, here come the words......."Mom, is breakfast ready?" Let the day begin.
About the author: Michelle Perry is a self-proclaimed internet junkie with no cure in sight.
