Slow Pokes

I admit, we can take a while to get out of the house. My Sweets went as far as to suggest Buby + I are "Slow Pokes" recently. But But But... There's much to fit into the tiny nugget of time between "Wake up sleepy head!" and "Uh oh, we're late." I streamline our weekday mornings as much as possible. Wake up to my cell at 7 a.m. {groggy after only a couple hours of sleep, and usually just 30 minutes after rocking Bleu back down}, speed tip-toe into Buby's room, let in the light, crack some jokes with a smile and try to psyche him up for the day {or else he wakes up cranky}, get him on the potty, brush my teeth, put in my contacts, throw on clothes {real clothes ~ no stretchy pants}. All while whispering.



Then I race back into the bathroom to retrieve Buby ~ who talks me into reading him a mini train novel while he sits on the loo, make sure he has wiped, washed and brushed well, ask him to help me pick out his outfit {fyi: he doesn't let ANYone pick out his clothes, so my mere suggestion of it gets him moving!}, grab the baby monitor, speed tip-toe downstairs to let Jazzy outside, make Buby breakfast, eat while chatting or reading another book of his choice, race back up to get Bleu ~ if she isn't already up, change her, nurse her, dress her, run back down two flights, load the dishwasher, stand at the back door begging and bribing the dog to come in, grab snacks + sippies of water for later, start the car, get the kids in coats, hats and boots, ready our bags, and carry out the crew. All while watching the clock.



Inevitably right before we walk out Buby has to GO or Bleu has just gone, and we start back at square one. We live on three full floors, so even with my type A organizational skills {a place for everything / everything in its place}, our stuff is spread out. Lots of running up and down and up again with a babe nestled under arm and another yelling that HE wants to go first. Either way... All three of us are in the car by 8:25 a.m. on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Preschool is 20 minutes away. 9:30 a.m. on Tuesdays. Private swim lessons are 30 minutes away. We're like Fed Ex here, unfazed by rain, sleet or snow. I'm rarely early for school or appointments, but I'm on time or never more than a minute or two late. I am proud of that, after 32 years as a famous night owl. Once in a while Buby brings a Kashi cereal bar and banana in the car, but c'est la vie. We listen to whatever music he wants on route, chit chat about all the awesome things he's about to do, and I remind him again how much My Sweets and I love love loooove him to bits.



We get to the school, pile out, greet the teacher, head down to the main desk to turn in permission slips, order forms, or $ for yet another school fundraiser. If it's not a PTO day, I bounce with my Bleu right back into our warm car, to the driver's seat, and nurse her again. No distractions. And then take a deep breath. School days are easier when we all shower in the evenings. The key to our morning hour is to hurry + rush without ever making Buby feel hurried or rushed. If I'm not patient with him he'll totally revolt. Plus: Meltdowns take time, a luxury we don't have. So I ensure his up-and-at-'em routine is fun and happy, because I want him to walk into school in the best possible state of mind. Knock on wood... five months in, and he's never cried or fussed at departure time. He leaves me in good spirits and comes back to me in good spirits two and a half hours later.



Anyway, where was I going with this. Oh yes. Today after school and after lunch, we got all bundled up to walk to the village library. It took us forever to get out of the house. Verifiable Slow Pokes. But But But... I don't care. We had a blast. And we had all afternoon. Here's a look.