I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. At 1:06, 4:16, 5:30 and 6:02, to be exact. Rough night. Followed by a rough morning. Mr. Fixit had to go on a business trip, and he’s been away in the mornings and/or evenings a lot this week, and of course he was away for all of last week on that stupid fruitless male-bonding exercise called moose-hunting. I’m totally not bitter that by the time he got home Creative Cat’s arm was all healed and there was no longer any cause for concern. I didn’t look like a big needy worrywart over that AT ALL.
The morning got off to a rough start, is what I’m saying. I couldn’t find anything half-decent to wear and I had to settle for the Most Uncomfortable Bra in the World. The coffeemaker overflowed and I had to wipe hot spilled coffee off my counters. I threw together some dry sandwiches for the girls’ lunches, slapped some stale muffins and bananas in front of the kids for breakfast, and then hunched over the laptop on the loveseat in the kitchen, drinking coffee that tasted like ass and snarling.
And yet. Before long there were three children and a small dog crowded around me on the loveseat, peering at my laptop screen and making suggestions for my next Facebook Scrabble move. “Mom, you can spell GOAT!” “No, doofus, G-O-T-E isn’t a word.” “Mom, there’s a T! For Tonka! Spell my name!” “Mom, you is winnin’? Is Unca Thom winnin’? Why he never wins?”
And then I chased Queen Bee upstairs, fully expecting an incredible amount of drama over getting dressed, because she has gymnastics this afternoon and Mr. Fixit is away and her favourite underwear/pants/shirt are all dirty…and there was no drama. I hollered up the stairs a few times, “I don’t hear any noise; are you getting dressed?” And she called back something reassuring which somehow did not reassure me at all. I continued to slurp my bad coffee and scowl at the world, conserving my energy for the battle which was surely to come when it was time to leave for school. Instead, she appeared downstairs, on time, wearing a full set of clothing. A new shirt. New underwear. Stretchy pants which she had previously told me she could not wear with underwear. She doesn’t like new clothes. She doesn’t like stretchy pants. I don’t know what happened. It’s a Halloween Miracle.
After we dropped the girls off at school, Tonka and I came home to a growly kind of morning. Tonka was in A Mood because he couldn’t find his Nintendo DS and I wouldn’t let him play with the Wii, and I was being unreasonable about his speech. I just wanted to rip off the uncomfortable bra, take a handful of Tylenol with Codeine, and crawl back into bed. Instead we played a board game and stumbled through the morning. As we were walking to the bus stop to take Tonka to school I realized my mood had lifted somewhat. The fresh air and exercise and the sense of accomplishment at getting through the morning had worked some kind of magic. We had a nice walk and it was a relief to send Tonka off to school with a smile instead of a snarl.
Love knows that a bad morning doesn’t mean a bad day. A bad half hour doesn’t mean the next half hour will be bad. Love knows that every minute is a new opportunity to try again. Love starts fresh. Sometimes over and over and over again in a single morning.