Prompt: Your morning routine.
So, here’s a secret–I’m actually filling these prompts out in advance, and scheduling the entries with my scheduling tool. Neat, huh? Anyway, this entry was written on May 20, when school was still in session. That means a typical weekday morning looked like this:
7:00 a.m. Alarm goes off
7:01 a.m. Having fumbled at my bedside table, knocked my phone onto the floor, and located it, I turn my alarm off.
7:05 a.m. If it is a particularly bad morning, I discover I actually only turned it to snooze.
7:25 a.m. I shoot upright in bed, grab my phone to check the time, and breath a sigh of relief that it’s still before 8:00 in the morning. Also, thank god it’s spring and the sun is rising at a rational hour, which means it’s waking me up. I wish school ran year ’round. Sometimes John is already awake and playing on his phone. Sometimes he has slept through the sunshine and my multiple alarms and fumblings.
7:30 a.m. I open the door to my son’s room and say, “Wakey, wakey, lemon snakey!” or, if I’m in a less convivial mood, “Kiddo. Get up.” For some reason, the sound of my voice rouses him in a way his alarm clock never has. Perhaps we should record my voice and use that as his alarm.
7:35 a.m. While my son blinks himself awake, stretches, and checks his phone under the covers, I let his dog out to go pee and toss yesterday’s coffee grounds. Before I can add the water to the pot for today’s coffee, the dog is already pawing at the door. I look to my son’s room, but there is no movement. Some mornings he will let the dog in first, but most mornings I do. I call my son’s name as I walk to the sliding door. He calls back, “I know, I know.”
7:37 a.m. As I grind the coffee beans and add them to the pot, my son uses the restroom and feeds the dog. I start the coffee brewing, then turn to his breakfast. Some mornings I pour him a bowl of cereal and cut up fresh fruit on top, if we have it. Some mornings I make a protein-heavy breakfast of sausage and eggs. I set out his ADHD medication and a glass of juice. He comes into the kitchen at the tail end of the preparations and watches me, sleepy-eyed. I hug him one-armed and drop a kiss on his forehead, tell him I love him.
7:40 a.m. We head to the living room, where he eats breakfast while reading on his phone as he sits at the low coffee table in front of the couch, and I curl up in the corner of the couch to scroll through reddit and FB while I drink coffee … or I just curl up in the corner of the couch and drowse. The dog finishes eating and interrupts Kiddo, wanting to be let out.
7:41 a.m. The dog wants back in.
7:43 a.m. The dog wants back out.
7:45 a.m. The dog wants back in.
7:47 a.m. The dog wants back out, but this time we tell it no. It pads to the back bedroom to snuffle at John’s face. Kiddo finishes his breakfast and goes back to his bedroom.
7:58 a.m. It suddenly occurs to me that I haven’t heard any movement-type noises indicating “getting ready” for ten minutes or so. I either text or call out to Kiddo, depending on how bad my morning headache is. He promises he will come start his morning chores at exactly 8:05.
8:00 a.m. John pads out from the bedroom, accompanied by the dogs. If I already poured the coffees, he heats up his by-now-cooled-mug. If I have just been lazily drowsing on the couch coffee-less, he pours me a mug and checks to see if I’ve taken my medicine.
8:05 a.m. Kiddo comes out and begins to unload the dishwasher, as promised. When he finishes, he flosses and brushes his teeth and changes his shirt.
8:10 – 8:45 a.m. Laziness and quiet. Browsing on the internets. Then Kiddo grabs his pre-packed backpack and leaves for the bus stop so he can catch the bus, which apparently arrives at 8:55.
In the summer, our morning routines involve sleeping in sometimes and waking up super early sometimes. Sometimes we go crabbing and sometimes we go clamming. Sometimes we go to yard sales and sometimes we go on motorbike rides. Sometimes we stay inside and veg while drinking coffee and staring at the internet screens.