Wake up before the sun rises to baby monitors a-buzzing...a symphony in stereo of cooing and singing from L & B respectively. What the...what? B shouldn't be up for another hour, at least. But up he is, and the singing is turning to insistent conversations with himself about wanting to play. And L's cooing is starting to sound downright angry. G has already left for his run, so I hop out of bed to get the boys. I go to B first, pick him up out of his crib (but not before our daily game of pretending-to-sleep and scooting-away-so-mommy-can't-get-you). Diaper change, clothes on, teeth brushed (this is new...I had to implement morning brushing because good gravy my baby has killer morning breath now!)
Go get L and get ready to go downstairs. Where is B? OK, change of plans. B has run back to his room, dumped out all his blocks & is fully engaged in the activity. My offers of breakfast are met with firm refusal and lots of whining. So I plop into the glider and start nursing L. Of course, as soon as I sit down, B wants to sit there with us, and read books. Awkwardly, he squeezes in beside me, and more awkwardly I try to hold the heavy book he chose with one hand, while the other hold a squirmy L. He has become quite the distracted nurser lately and I have to keep getting him back on task, but god help me if I miss a beat on the book-reading. SAY IT MOMMY! SAY THE BOOK!
Just as soon as L finishes up I am assaulted by the unmistakable sound & smell of a diaper needing changing NOW. I hurry back to L's room, B whining behind me, and begin the process of XTREME diaper changing---the kind where you remove the soupy full diaper just in time for more ummm....squirting... Grab a new diaper to catch that, grab some wipes----aaagh, who left them open, they are dried up!!! Suddenly B wants to have MILK! and PANCAKES! Is that really the time? Where the X&*(() is G? Did he forget today was my early clinic day? Try to pay attention to what I'm doing, because as unprofessional as it may be to show up late, it would be a 1000X worse showing up late with excrement in my hair. OK, poop disaster averted, now putting on new outfit. Why the &*!% are there so many buttons on infant clothes? Are they purposefully f-ing with tired parents of wriggly babies? "Yes, sweetie, we will get you some milk in a minute"
I'm trying to carefully do get each tiny little snap but finding it hard to see with the tears swimming in my eyes. Because...because how in the hell did I ever get so freaking lucky and why does it have to go by so fast?