Will You Just Give Me a Minute

I have always been a morning person. I got up without hitting snooze, could have a lucid conversation prior to ingesting caffeine, and had the ability to roll out of bed and be ready for work in 15 minutes, that's with a shower. Perhaps it's the luck of the genetic draw, or maybe it's because in the past, morning was my time. I could go for a run or take my time getting ready, wake up with a cup of coffee, read the paper. My choice, my life.

Now with my children in control of wake up (and my life) and robbing me of precious sleep every night, I am no longer a morning person. I calculated that I have not slept through the night in almost 5 years if you include the last few months of pregnancy. On the rare occasion when both of my kids sleep through the night, my bladder cannot, and when I'm up, I have to go check on them. There just seem to be a lot more cob webs to clear out these days and not enough time or peace in the morning to get to them all.

From the moment I set foot in the kitchen, I am met with a deluge of orders. I can muster enough brain power to form a single thought - coffee. Yes, that's what I should do first, make coffee. But my plans are waylaid by a demand for water. With ice. And in a cup with a straw. Not the red cup, but the blue one. What was I doing? Coffee, right.

As I make my way over to the cupboard to fulfill the order, another request, a command really, is immediately issued by my youngest. 'NO, I want the blue cup.'

Charlie of course counters by yelling, 'NO, I get it! I asked first.'

'No, Charlie not get it. I get it.'

Now there's screaming. For the love of Pete, it is 6:30 am and I have lost count of the number of scoops of coffee I just measured. What do I do? Do I just estimate the rest and risk the brew being the equivalent of rocket fuel? Should I empty the whole coffee filter and start from scratch? If I could just hear myself think for 5 seconds, I'm sure I could figure this out.

'No, I want it.'

'No, I want it.'

'Stupid, Charlie.'

'Mommy! Gregory used a bad word and I should get the blue cup now.'

I'm paralyzed. Problem solving is not my strong suit when chaos is erupting around me. The voices in my head are one thing, but this is ridiculous.

We finally work through the water issue. By the way, no one got the blue cup, it's in the garbage. That's how Mommy rolls when people mess with her coffee. Now there are requests for breakfast.

'I want something from the refrigerator.'

What would you like, Charlie, yogurt?

'No.'

Cereal with milk?

'That doesn't come from the fridge.'

The milk does.

'No, the cereal doesn't so I don't want it.'

How about eggs?

'I don't eat eggs anymore.'

Since when?

'Since I told the wires in my brain not to like them.'

Oh. Grapes?

'Yeah, grapes would be good.'

Okay, grapes coming up. And I'll grab myself a cup of jo en route.

'I don't want grapes.'

Well Gregory, what do you want?

'I want pretzel rod.'

No, pretzels.

'I want popsicle.'

No.

How about some yogurt?

'Okay. I want vanilla.'

We only have blueberry.

'I no want blueberry.'

That's all I've got is blueberry. It's blue yogurt, way better than white.

'Okay.'

Okay!

I still haven't gotten my coffee and I don't even think Mark Geragos in the height of the Scott Peterson trial debated this much within an hour of his waking.

Finally, everyone has their food. I have my coffee and think I might sit down.

'Mommy, I'm done.' Or not.

Honey, I don't think just grapes is enough of a breakfast. You're going to get hungry at school.

'But I'm done.'

How about some yogurt, like Gregory?

'Okay, I'll have vanilla.'

Your screaming must have caused you to miss that part of the conversation earlier. There is only blueberry.

'But I want vanilla.'

Really? Really, Charlie? Are we going to play this game?

'What, Mommy?'

Blueberry or nothing.

'Okay, blueberry I guess. But you should really get vanilla when you're at the store next time. I like vanilla the best.'

Great.

I am now starving and need to eat my cereal before I go postal. My ass has not even formed an indentation on the seat cushion of the chair when I hear, 'I all done.'

Okay Greg, you're going to have to wait until Mommy finishes before I can help you.

'No, I all done now.'

Sorry, bud, let me eat then we'll get you something.

'No, now.'

No.

'Have some of Mommy's cereal?'

What's mine is yours kid and if it will keep you quiet, why not.

'Mommy, I don't want my yogurt anymore. I want some crackers with cheese, but it has to be orange mild cheddar, not the white mild cheddar.'

Charlie, finish your yogurt, that's what you asked for.

With tears brimming in his eyes, 'But Mommy, I didn't want the blueberry yogurt. I wanted vanilla and because you didn't get any at the store, I shouldn't have to eat blueberry. I want crackers with orange mild cheddar.'

I guess I should just get used to this. Everything will be my fault for the rest of my kids lives, or until they get a good therapist. I'm going to call mine right now.