Rude Awakenings

I blame it on the NyQuil.

If I hadn't choked down that sleep-inducing, cherry-flavored sludge last night, I never would have overslept this morning. I certainly can't blame it on the fact that I forgot to set my alarm clock, or that I rolled over and ignored three pairs of slippered feet storming up and down my hall for nearly an hour. No, it was definitely the NyQuil that made us late for school today. And as any good, over-sleeping mom knows: when you're running late for school, everything that can go wrong, will go wrong.

By the time I finally managed to pry my eyes open and acknowledge the time, it was 7:56. We leave for pre-school at 8:15; and preferably my kids are dressed and fed when we walk out the door. I pulled on a sweatshirt and a pair of socks, and dashed to the playroom with a pile of clothes.

"Girls, come on! We're late! We're late! We're late!" I shouted.

"We want to watch a show!" Ella shouted back, just as Emily and Evie started whining in unison, "We want cereal!"

The battle to dress three non compliant children began. I grabbed the closest kid and stripped off her jammies, then turned to fish a clean pair of panties out of my pile. I turned back around just in time to see her bare bottom prancing off to the bathroom as she sang, "I have to go potty!" Since there was no use in chasing her, I grabbed the next closest kid and stripped her down. But as soon as she was absent the diaper, she too dashed off for a potty break. I just sighed, and tackled number three as she ran by me with a basket full of crayons. By the time I got her dressed - and the crayons picked back up - the other two were done with their business and busy flooding the bathroom sink.

"What are you doing, girls? We're late!"

"We want to give our duckies a bath!"

"Your duckies can have a bath later. We have to get dressed!"

I wrestled them into matching outfits, all the while wondering if I would be judged for leaving their hair a tangled mess. In the end I opted to fix it, and lost another five minutes chasing each girl around with a hairbrush and spray bottle. One squirt of water landed perilously close to Emily's face; she fell to the ground screaming, "My eye! My eye!" I didn't waste time with concern, however, since this is the child who stubs her toe and screams, "My eye! My eye!" She's very protective of her eyes.

Once Emily recovered from her trauma, and I had everybody dressed, shoed and styled, Emily began a new mantra in the whining voice she has truly perfected. (Think Jim Carey in Dumb and Dumber when he introduced "the most annoying sound in the world.") "IwantcerealIwantcerealIwantcerealIwantcerealIwantcerealIwantcereal..." Seriously, it is SO much worse than fingernails on a chalkboard, but you can imagine her noise in the background as I continued my morning:

"IwantcerealIwantcerealIwantcerealIwantcerealIwantcerealIwantcereal..."

"Hold on Emily. Mommy needs to get Ty up and change his diaper."

"Hold on Emily. Mommy needs to get the school bags together."

"Hold on Emily. Mommy's getting the cereal down now."

"Hold on Emily. Mommy's pouring the cereal into baggies so you can eat it in the car."

"Hold on Emily. Mommy needs to buckle everybody in their seats first."

"Hold on Emily. Mommy is physically holding the cereal in her hand and will give it to you as soon as she gets Ty buckled... Wait a minute. Where is Ty? Ty? TY? Have you girls seen Ty?!?"

I tossed the bags of cereal to the girls, and dashed back into the house in search of my baby - who is surprisingly easy to lose. I eventually found him trapped behind the one door I couldn't open. Apparently he'd crawled into the bathroom, closed the door, and then opened the drawer directly adjacent to said door. The sounds I heard coming from the other side indicated he was having a grand time emptying the drawer, and the cabinets, of all their contents.

Why didn't I baby proof those??? I thought, as I slid down against the door for a good cry. But before I could really get going, Ty got bored and closed the drawer. I wiped my eyes, flung the door open, and knocked him over. "We're late!" I shouted, as I scooped up the crying child and headed for the car.

We were on our way to pre-school when I finally had the nerve to check the clock. Oh, we're going to be REALLY late, I thought. It's already 8:35. I'm going to have to walk the girls to class. I glanced down to see if what I was wearing was presentable and groaned. I was still dressed in my pajamas, a sweatshirt, and socks. Perfect.

By the grace of God, there was a teacher running late drop-off when I got to the school. It was the first thing that went right all morning. She walked the kids to class, and I avoided the walk of shame - this time, anyway. But the rest of my day is going to be a busy one. I have to pour a bottle of NyQuil down the drain, buy a second alarm clock, baby proof the bathroom... and find some cuter sleepwear.