The secret to a good day

It’s no secret among moms that mornings are rough. Especially mornings eight days before school is out for the summer. Especially mornings after everyone stayed up late to watch the hockey game. No one wants to get out of bed, no one wants to eat breakfast, no one wants to choose clothes. Everything. Takes. Forever.

And don’t forget the chaos of the past few weeks: Baseball playoffs and trying to buy a house. Now let’s add in ex-husband having a death in family AND major vehicle issues. Last night I was on the verge of shutting down. House stress, a kid with an end-of-the-school-year attitude, and now my ex looking to me to tell him what to do about his truck.

What?! We’ve been divorced SIX YEARS. How about taking care of your truck with regular maintenance so you don’t end up with MAJOR repairs two months before you’re supposed to move out of my house! I’m done. I’m out. Take care of your own sh**, dude. I can’t do it anymore. I don’t have the money to lend you, I’m trying to buy a house. I just have to cut it off.

This led me to the realization that I’ve been the safety-net for the men in my life. They have all looked to me to “save” them from something. Well guess what, folks? No more! (OK, end rant. I’ll probably write more about this later, but not today.)

So last night after the end of a stellar baseball season, I made my son some chocolate chip cookies and we watched the L.A. Kings game. He fell asleep about two minutes into overtime and I ushered him to bed once the game ended (YAY KINGS!!!!)

I was stressed and tired and wanted to read my book and put the day behind me.

This morning, I was sure, would be better. HA.

I woke up at 4:15 a.m., a full hour before my alarm goes off. I hate that. Couldn’t get back to sleep so I got up.

The morning went on as usual. At 7:30 a.m. when we’re supposed to be heading out the door, there’s no sign of my son.

At 7:40 a.m. I yell up the stairs to see what the hold-up is.

“I’m getting dressed now!”

“You’ve been up there for 30 minutes! What have you been doing?!”

“I had to go to the bathroom!”

“For a half hour!?”

He comes bounding down the stairs, “I had to go.”

“Well you need to move it along, we need to leave NOW or you’re going to be late for school.”

“You can’t rush it mom, you just have to wait for it. And now that I pooped, I feel better. I’m ready to go.”

And off he goes, into the garage.

So maybe I don’t need that vacation, or that glass of wine. Maybe I just need to not rush things and poop.

If only … .


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