Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Good Morning

Mornings in my house can start one of two ways. In the first scenario, (my favourite one), I roll over, notice that it's about 7:30, and hear that no one else is yet awake. I tiptoe to the bathroom, brush my teeth, go to my La-Z-Boy and pump some milk for the babies while perusing fave blogs on my laptop (I have developed some astute multitasking skillz, yo), and bask in a quiet, sunny morning. If I push my luck, I can go quietly to the kitchen, prepare and eat a whole breakfast by myself before anyone else needs me. Even Skylar stays up in bed those days. Truly, it is a quiet, peaceful, easy start to my day.
More often than not, my day begins by hearing a baby cry out for me. If I squint at the clock and see it is at least past 7:00, I get myself up and go to her. (Otherwise she has to entertain herself or go back to sleep until after 7, that's my policy). I speed-brush my teeth as her cries become insistent, and I bolt downstairs, open my fridge and grab a protein ball, stuff it in my mouth and scoot back up the stairs to get her before she wakes Abby.
I change one baby, change another, because they are now both awake. If they are agreeable, we read a cute book (On the Day You Were Born is a recent favourite), I get them both dressed, and I give them their morning bottle. Usually, Abby wanders in during this part, and more often than not I have to change her diaper (if it's overnight pee, she can change herself but if it's #2, I have to do it. We're working on it.)
Then all three girls are hungry for breakfast, I still have to pump because I'm engorged, but at least I am not desperately ravenous myself because of those magic, wonderful protein bites.
From this point on, I feel slightly anxious at having to feed three hungry ladies their oatmeal, dispense vitamins, and prepare something for myself that I usually will end up eating 45 minutes later. I will put our Internet radio on and usually my customized 'Sarah's Mellow Mix' station calms us all down, giving me permission to do things a little more slowly, because we're all slightly entranced by Etta James or Shawn Colvin.
Oatmeal is served (Abby sometimes has cereal or toast and usually a side of yogurt), faces are wiped, and finally we can all head downstairs so I can sit and pump.
Mornings can be busy, or, when I'm really lucky, they start out nice and slow and with me well-fed and emptied of my milk. I know I could make this happen every day by setting my alarm and getting up ahead of everyone. I do not enjoy waking to an alarm in the slightest, and so I don't mind tempting the fates and subjecting myself to the busier mornings more often than not. It makes the slow, quiet ones even more serene. It also means that once in a blue moon, we all sleep in, without meaning to, and enjoy a nice lazy morning all together.

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