One Manic Hour

  We over slept this morning. What a way to start the day. Three people running around like chickens with their heads cut off.  One angry because I "let" him sleep in. The other angry because....well he's been angry for a week.

  I manage to get the coffee maker on and throw some waffles in the toaster before both boys get downstairs. I'm pulling food out of the refrigerator for lunches...I did actually buy food yesterday...when the questions begin. Where's my homework? Where's my agenda? Do you have any money? Why did you have two kids? Now the coffee maker is on but not one drop has touched my lips and they are asking me questions. Not fun.

  Faster than a speeding bullet I throw together a sandwich and some fruit for Alex. He has a toothbrush in one hand and a backpack in the other. He's actually rushing. That's a first. 

  Shoes are on. Hair is combed...Alex's not mine. We are ready to go. Where are the keys? Not on the hook where they should be. Not in the bowl where they might be. Where the hell are they?! In my hand of course. Remember not one drop of coffee at this point.

  Finally we are in the car. The seat warmer is on and the dew has melted from the windshield. Off we go. Of course we hit every red light from here to the high school. Time keeps ticking by. Progress is slow but the school is now in sight. So is the crazy long line of parents dropping off their kids. I wait my turn and off he goes, with minutes to spare. One twelve year olds idea of a catastrophe averted.

  Home we go. Still no coffee but things are looking up. Walk in the front door and what is the first thing I see? You guessed it...the lunch. Apparently putting it beside the backpack wasn't enough. He did move it to get his agenda out from underneath but it must have been too much work to actually put it inside.

  The youngest is no longer grouchy. He's gotten himself ready and casually waves goodbye and off to the bus stop he goes. I didn't need to remind him about his hat, gloves or sweater. Or his lunch for that matter.

  The house is quiet. No tv or radio. The only sound is the coffee maker heating up again. I can smell it brewing. Nothing smells so good at eight in the morning. It tastes even better than it smells. We've made it though another crazy morning. I sit and wonder how Mom didn't go crazy with four of us in the morning. And she didn't drink coffee!

  Ang