Morning Sunshine

I routinely stay up too late when Robb is traveling. It always seems wise and profitable in the late night hours... but then morning comes.

It feels entirely too early when Tucker is ready to start the day. I try to convince him that it's not morning yet, but he points wordlessly to the sliver of morning light peeking through his blinds.

Oh. Right. That. Sunshine.

I try to persuade him to 'sleep in' a little longer... just for a few more minutes. But this agreement involves him shouting that he needs to go potty. And then celebrating independently because he did. Then the sounds of him clamoring in the bathroom to wash his hands even though he cannot reach the soap.

Then he heads back to his room to play the letter matching game on his little computer. Only he can't find H. "Mommy? H! I can't find H! H? H? Where are you??"

In the room right next door, Tyler is shouting Happy Birthday to everyone he knows. Or mostly just himself. Tucker yells, "NO! Sing Happy Birthday, dear Tucker!" So Tyler does.

Perhaps I'll get up. This is not a very satisfying snooze time.

I put their breakfast on the table: Rice Krispies and a fruit bar. Before I can finish making my coffee, Tucker is done with his cereal, pouring the remains into the sink. And Tyler is ready to get down and play, but his bowl of cereal topples to the floor while he's climbing down.

Only I didn't notice that part. It wasn't until I heard the series of Uh-Oh-What-a-Mess-No-Molly-Don't-Eat-It-No-Uh-Oh. Perhaps I should see what's up.

(My morning reaction time isn't top notch.)

So there I am, on my knees, cleaning up soggy cereal. Tucker is screaming toddler obscenities at nobody in particular, simply because he likes the sound of his angry voice. Tyler is climbing on the back of my calves, laughing at the audacity of mommy in this position.

And my coffee is cold. Perhaps it is the nature of this series of events... or the fact that I stayed up too late... or the truth that this is the fifth day without my husband. All of those factors are weighing on me.

Robb calls to tell me that he's in line at airport security, on his way home. We will see him after naptime. In his gentle, far-away-loving-husband voice, he says, "Are you okay? You sound maybe not so okay."

Oh, you know. Maybe not so okay.

But he comes home today. And the Disney Channel is faithful. And I can put my coffee in the microwave. And my husband comes home today.

We'll be okay. It's a good morning.