The morning

It's still dark and Matt is awake and has the bathroom light on, which is flooding into my eyes, despite my best efforts to keep them closed. Crap, I guess I have to get up soon. I'll just wait for my alarm to go off. No sense in getting up before I really have to. The alarm is not going off. Why? Did I not set it right? What time is it? 5:42. No wonder. I don't have to get up for another 3 minutes. I ponder what a jerk my husband is for waking me before I'm supposed to be awake. Then I roll over and put a pillow over my eyes, as though the next 3 minutes will provide me with quality slumber. The alarm goes off. Matt has already left the bedroom. I can hear that he's already woken Elliot. I flip on the TV and listen to Chuck Lofton tell me that the map of Indiana is covered in blue because we're expecting 3-6 inches of snow today. As it's been snowing for 3 hours already (Chuck told me this too), I watch the school closings scroll across the bottom of the screen. St. Monica is not closed. I'm not surprised. I climb out of bed and start my morning routine. Turn water on in the sink to hot and let it run while I put my hair up, brush my teeth and get dressed. When I get ready to wash my face, the water is luke warm. By the time I've finished lathering my face the water is toasty. I'm a happy girl! Then, of course, comes the beautification...astringent (because at 32, my face still breaks out), Oil of Olay (because I'm 32), then minimal makeup because I'm staying home with two babies today, but one never knows if the people from Publisher's Clearing House might show up on my doorstep and I would like to look presentable for the camera. Of course, I never participate in the Publisher's Clearing House, so it's fairly certain that they won't show up. Jerks! I make the bed and consider putting away the laundry that's folded in the laundry basket on the chair, but decide that I'll do it later.

I come downstairs to find that Matt's already left. What, no goodbye, no hug and kiss? Probably his boots got wet when he shoveled the driveway and he didn't want to track through the house to come upstairs to tell me goodbye and since the baby is still sleeping he couldn't yell to me. Bye, honey. Elliot informs me that he has eaten a cereal bar and is still hungry. He wants waffles, but can't find them. I start for the basement, which is where I usually keep the frozen waffles. Elliot informs me that they're not down there. Daddy already checked and then yells at me for standing with the basement door open because the cat is sitting there. I shut the door quickly as the cat has been banished to the basement for the naughty business that she's been doing on the carpet upstairs. Elliot assures me that he's fed the cat despite the fact that she was sitting next to her empty food dish looking at me.

Now, where are the waffles? He's right. They're not downstairs. They're not in the freezer in the garage and they're not in the freezer in the kitchen (seriously, I've got 3 freezers). Now, I'm ticked off. I know I bought a case of waffles the last time I went to Sam's Club. I remember buying them. What happened to them? Did I leave them in the cart? Leave them in the back of the van? Surely not, I would have noticed them by now. Where could they be? I'm slightly perterbed. I offer Elliot and egg instead. Matt, in a moment of recent brilliance, introduced us to the microwave egg. Fourty seconds in the microwave and bam, a nicely cooked egg! Much less mess than dealing with a frying pan and they come out in a perfect circle, perfect for an English muffin. Except we're out of English muffins, so I put Elliot's on piece of toast cut in half instead. I make one for myself using 12 grain bread instead of white. I'm trying to be healthier, you know. Midway through, Elliot asks for some orange juice, which I also decide sounds perfect with the egg sandwich.

I send Elliot upstairs to make his bed and brush his teeth. In the meantime, I unload the dishwasher. When he comes back down, it's quarter of seven. I read him a chapter from the first Narnia Book. He's participating in a reading program for school in which he charts the number of minutes that he reads or is read to each day. If he logs 1200 minutes, he is entered into a contest to win a $1000 savings bond. Although, I know our odds aren't good, Elliot is highly competitive and this contest affords the perfect opportunity for me to encourage him to read more. In fact, I've not had to encourage him at all. I find him reading all the time the last few days. I'm really enjoying the Narnia book, so I'm pretty motivated to read to him, as well. In fact, I find it difficult not to read the book while he's at school.

We finish the chapter at 7:00, I send Elliot to get his coat on. I start quizzing him on his spelling words before I remember that he has a religion test today. I pull the religion book out of his book bag and quiz him on chapter 5 instead. Elliot's answer to how the Holy Spirit helps us...to make us be good. I'm pretty sure this is not a great answer and since I don't know the answer myself, I start flipping through the chapter for more information. Aha! The Holy Spirit provides us with courage and faith. I explain this to Elliot and tell him that there are a lot of people in the world who aren't Catholic, who don't like Catholics, or who don't believe in God at all. I tell him that the Holy Spirit gives us the courage and faith to stand up for what we believe. Elliot responds that he would just punch those people in the face. I'm pretty sure that's not what Jesus wants us to do. I try to explain this as well, but to no avail. He just keeps coming up with other ways that he would hurt these people. I sit on the stairs to start putting my boots on because I've realized that the driveway is covered in snow again. Elliot's ride shows up and he leaves while I'm tying my boots. I sweep the snow off the drive and sidewalk.

Back inside, I find that it's 7:23. I have 7 minutes before I need to wake up the baby to keep her on schedule. I pour a cup of coffee and sit down with the sudoku book that I bought for Elliot. Mostly, I do them and sometimes he helps me. I look row by row and column by column, plugging in three more numbers. It's 7:30 and I need to wake the baby.

Avery, with her adorable self is all smiles when I wake her up. I nurse her in my bedroom while watching Chuck Lofton again. The Today show is not on because the local affiliate feels that we need constant coverage of the snow. Three reporters in different locations around the city report in on the snow in that area and how the traffic is moving. They look cold standing out there. I get Avery dressed and set her on my bedroom floor to play with some toys while I put the laundry away.

I balance the baby on my right hip, my nearly empty coffee cup looped around my left thumb and the empty laundry basket in my left hand as I head down the stairs, thinking all the way that it's probably not a good idea. Oh well. We all made it safe and sound. Avery sits on the rug to play with toys and ends up within seconds on her belly. She's become very adept at getting onto her hands and knees to reach for toys, but she hasn't figured out how to crawl so she just flops down on her belly. Then, she gets mad because she doesn't like to be on her belly. I've vowed (in my head, just at this moment) that I'm not going to pick her up anymore. She's got to figure this out. Instead, I lift her by the waist onto her knees and help her move toward her toys. Here, she ceremoniously flops to her belly again and starts yelling. I lift her hips over and over before she finally pushes herself up to a sitting position. Now she's too far away from the toys to reach them. So, she goes back to hands and knees to get to the toys and flops back on her belly. I pick her up and sit her down within reach of the toys.

While she plays I fold the laundry that came out of the dryer last night just before I went to the gym. While the car was warming up in the garage, I laid it flat so it wouldn't be wrinkled . I had another load that needed to be in the dryer and I knew that when I got home from the gym at 10pm I wouldn't want to deal with it. So, this morning I fold the laundry and refill the previously empty basket. Then, turn on the dryer to fluff the load that had gone in last night. I load the dishwasher of the pots and pans that did not fit in the dishwasher last night along with our breakfast dishes. I decide that I'm going to wait until after the babies have breakfast before I run it.

Avery's getting upset because she's on her belly once again. It's 8:30 now. Ethan should be arriving any time and Avery's ready for breakfast. I sit her in the booster seat and give her a spoon to chew on while I cut up her fruit. I bought canteloupe for her. It's not in the least bit ripe. It has no flavor and is rather hard. I figure she doesn't know the difference, so I cut it up into small pieces and dump them on her tray. Ethan arrives. I put him on the floor in front of Avery. They flirt with each other and I give him the "kitchen toys". The kitchen toys consist of two different sized plastic butter tubs, a small wooden spoon, a tupperware dish and an emptied onion powder container that I threw some paperclips in. The latter is a favorite. It's a great size for their little hands and makes a fun noise. In the meantime, I prepare Ethan's oatmeal. I have to put some more oats in the food processor because I'm almost out. He's just started on chunkier foods this week. I heat Avery's oatmeal. I made it earlier in the week and refrigerated small portions for her. I decide that I'm going to let her try to feed herself oatmeal this morning. I spoon feed Ethan, while I drop glops of oatmeal on Avery's tray. She has fun feeding herself and making a huge mess. When Ethan is finished, I clean him up and give him his spoon to play with while Avery finishes. I break out the video camera to capture the oatmeal mess. I try three times. Each time ending with her trying to pull her bib off. I turn off the camera and fix the bib each time. After the third time, I decide that she's done with the oatmeal. I clean her off and set her and Ethan on the floor to play and commence the great oatmeal cleanup.

Avery starts fussing. Big surprise, she's on her belly again. I continue to clean up the oatmeal until her fuss turns into a scream. Ethan's got a handful of Avery's hair. I pry his kung-fu grip out of her hair and sit her up again. She's not having it. I sit and play with the babies for a few minutes before I realize that it's 20 after 9:00. I change both babies' diapers and read them a few books. I carry them both up the stairs and put them to bed.

Back downstairs, I finish cleaning up the oatmeal, load the dishwasher and run it. I fold the laundry from the dryer, pick up the baby toys, and put the load of delicates that had been hanging up in the basement to dry into the dryer to fluff. I sit down to pump. I'm supposed to be giving the pump back to the person who lent it to me at the end of the month. I want to make sure I have some milk stored in the freezer. As I'm pumping, I'm telling myself the story of my morning and decide that today is the day that I will start the blog that I've been telling myself for months that I should start. While the laptop boots up, I fold the delicates. The laundry basket is filled to capacity, again. The babies sleep! Ethan has just woken, is drinking a bottle and pushing out a poo! Gotta run!

P.S. I remembered that I didn't buy waffles at Sam's. They've been out the past two times that I've gone. Maybe they're not carrying them anymore...