I hate Sunday mornings

I wish it wasn't so... I used to love 'em when I was young and without children. Ah... those were the days. Sleeping in. Getting coffee at the neighborhood deli along with a bagel and veggie cream cheese or brunch with friends at the local diner with endless coffee and a ham and cheese omelette -- all of this around 2pm in the afternoon!

Today is different. Last year I hated it because it was a mad dash to get out of the house alone with the kids, trying to get one to stay in church preschool (Unitarian) by herself and teaching a 1st/2nd grade class with a teacher whose personality didn't really mesh with my own. This year it is well... just yucky.

Every Sunday I awake thinking this will be a good Sunday morning. We'll manage to get to Dad's arrival home from work near lunch time without any major blowups, freak outs or tantrums. But with almost ludicrous regularity, the kids lose it at some point - usually by about 8:30 am or so.

It seems it is always something. Now mind you, if I jumped out of bed at 5:00 a.m., exercised and met their wakening up eyes at 6:30 a.m. with breakfast on the table and activities to do non-stop until Dad's arrival, maybe we'd do well. But then again, they'd grouse 'cause that's what they do on Sunday mornings. We had a pretty good time last week (after the freakout/meltdown time) because I forced them to walk the dog with me all the way to the local school (just under a mile away) and there against their better grousing judgment they played pirates together and find the clues to the hidden treasure and didn't want to leave.

This week they have proclaimed they like to fight and then proceeded to do so. The girl decided she doesn't like pancakes but not until after they were requested by brother and made my mother (she is eating them as I type). Mind you I have NO plan, ZERO, squat. Mornings are not my best time. I need coffee, breakfast and some simple activity (such as playing on the computer, checking my e-mail and such) for at least a half hour usually longer to fully awaken enough to engage with my children.

And so... here we are -- with over 2 hours to go until Pops arrives on the scene. It is relatively quiet right now but it may or may not last. We've still got to get dressed and I need to eat (had to leave the room due to too much whining) and take a deep breath break. What else shall we do? Dunno. The boy wants to make new playdough so we can construct a volcano with colored lava. Maybe we will. Gotta go now to deal with the impending fight over who gets to play on Nick Jr. games on the computer and who will actually get dressed before their father gets home.

Can't wait 'til Monday morning (or at least Sunday afternoon). Baby Loves Disco, here we come! Let's see who grumps there (can anyone say Dad and boy)? Wish us well. Too bad I don't own my copper satin disco pants anymore. Actually it is for the best as I would no doubt NOT fit in them any longer. I miss those carefree disco days (although they weren't really carefree as I was an adolescent who wanted to be popular and have friends and a boyfriend etc., etc. and no doubt did plenty of grousing on my own).