Morning at My House

Hiii. (This is how I'm going to begin all blogs posts from now on.)

So, House of Cards, Season whatever is on now, Episode 8. We put it on last weekend and I fell asleep within the first four minutes. So I won't talk about that one, but I am dying to talk about the episode, not sure if it is 6 or 7, where the perfect political wife greets the husband in the bathroom with "good morning" and a screw at the "his" sink. Then we learn they have a 5 or 6-year-old son who interrupts them to ask for breakfast, and THEN we learn they also have a 2-year-old daughter. Are they for real??

House of Cards: Ruining marriages across America.

I mean, who does that? It must make some people think that "If I don't do that, I must have married the wrong person!" This, on the other hand, is what morning looks like at my house:

First of all, you will never catch Senior shaving. Second, our "master" bath is like a tiny closet that barely fits one person when you consider that a sink, toilet and shower are all stuffed in there. Third, Junior wakes up sometime between 6:30 and 7:30, sometimes 6:15. Unless of course I have set an alarm, "just in case" for 7:45, then he will sleep until my alarm wakes him up, whining because he would actually have kept sleeping. He pads into our room, demands that one of us unlock our phone, preferably my phone (the 6+). Senior and I both pretend to keep sleeping, one of us opens one eye, and hands him the phone. We tell him to turn the volume all the way down or go back to his room. He usually complies. All the commotion, however, typically wakes LJ. On a good day LJ babbles in his crib for a while. When he starts wailing, I elbow Senior in the ribs and tell him to go get him. Or I go get him and slap Senior on the ass and tell him it's time to wake up with the rest of his family. One of us wrestles LJ onto the changing table and pins him down with at least 20% of our body weight. He still escapes and stands up and we just take off his diaper and let him run around naked for a bit. On a good day, he doesn't water his books or squat behind the furniture and take a dump. (This is a joke. He hasn't done this for a long time. Like since before he was aware that he should hide behind furniture to do it.) He's actually pretty cute and likes to sit his bare ass in my lap and read books. Junior meanwhile watches the phone in a zombie-like state, now sitting on the glider in LJ's room. Also sort of cute. At this point I'm on track to get to work at like 10:00, so suddenly everything turns frantic and I command that the boys go downstairs so I can get ready. All flesh and crevices covered with half-presentable clothing? Check. Twenty seconds worth of make up applied? Check. Hair in ponytail? Check. More whining ensues from the kitchen as Junior asks for oatmeal with chocolate for breakfast (i.e. Nutella--this is a good trick actually, but I suppose I'm not winning any Jessica Seinfeld culinary mom of the year awards). I rush through the kitchen, pulling together something I can eat in the car, blow kisses all around, and I'm out.

And as you can see, our window for morning sex was bolted shut all the time. Ah well.