Explosion in Gnomeland

Some days really just start with a bang. Today was one of those days. It started with a snuggle…


6:00am – Mr. Handler’s alarm goes off

6:01am – Mr. Handler’s snooze is applied (He budgets for such a snooze function, so this wasn’t unusual)

6:34am – I roll over to snuggle.

6:34am – Mr. Handler rolls out of bed frantically, as his alarm has turned off instead of being on snooze for 5 minutes.

6:35am – Mr. Handler jumps in the shower. Biggest comes in for a snuggle, I doze.

6:37am – Littlest arrives for a snuggle also.

6:40am – Mr. Handler charges out of the shower to inform me that he will have to reschedule his appointment as it is physically impossible for him to make up the time he has missed while still making his connection.

6:40am – I hop out of bed, prepared to make a dent in the time required to get out the door.

7:07am – I have herded my husband out the door by ironing,  stuffing him in a suit, making him a breakfast to go, while simultaneously preparing his interview package and keeping Biggest and Littlest from the kitchen (no small feat)

7:20am – I have put the children onto helping me, while preparing 2 lunches (plus part of my own) (“helping” includes fielding questions about why the backpacks and lunch bags need to be checked, what a peach is doing masquerading as a plum, and 5+ questions about when breakfast will be ready, hash browns and boiled eggs are cooking, tuna salad is prepared, and the bathtub is running.)

7:30am – Children are in the tub soaking whilst breakfast is finishing, due to my inability to handle another query of when the meal might be ready. Also, they were dirty.

7:40am – Mr. Handler texts me from the bus, letting me know that he has made the connection. (I breath a small sigh of relief.)

7:45am – Children are washed, hair is washed, Littlest has been dried and dressed, Biggest is about to be dressed, lunches are finished.

7:55am – Biggest is dressed, Littlest is finished eating, Biggest is eating, I have seized the opportunity to clip his toenails.

7:57am – Biggest is finished eating, both children are brushing their teeth (miracles do happen)

8:02am – Children are putting shoes on, I am consuming what’s left of my cold hash browns while answering Biggest’s question about why my hash browns are edible straight out of the pan.

8:05am – I am scrounging for rain pants while also stuffing boots into a bag.

8:06am – The children are cleaning up legos.

8:10am – I remember to clear off the coffee table to have tea.

8:12am – Amazingly, the children are out the door. It took some doing, but we’re out at the front.

8:17am – Grammy has met us for the walk to daycare.

8:31am – Despite the extremely intense morning (that means getting all three gentlemen out the door in one piece) I have signed the children in only one minute late.

Fast forward to an hour later, and I took a slight bit too much time with my new teapot.

9:39am – I have managed now to have three infusions of my winter oolong (which has thusly centred me), showered, made my own lunch, reduced the explosion by half, and made it out the front door for the fastest power walk of my life.

9:57am – I made it to work. On time no less.

The remnants: three lunches still on the counter (the perishable remains having been wrapped and refrigerated by my mother), the ironing board and iron are taking up my kitchen, breakfast is still on the table, towels are on the floor, nail clippers are on the table, the entry way is devoid of life because I took all of its life to daycare, the bathroom and kitchen light are still on, half of my breakfast is still in the pot because I opted for the hash browns instead of the eggs, and my teapot is still on the coffee table.

Despite it all, I live. I survived stuffing my husband out the door (hopeful on the interview!), got both reluctant children bathed, dressed, and taken off to daycare, had tea, AND got myself ready for work. I feel a bit like superwoman, even though the house blew up.

And with that, I am going to a definitively earned sleep time.

Good night,

Mrs. Handler.

PS: Stuffing Mr. Handler in a suit on his way out the door is only fair as blog fodder since he has stuffed my lunch in a bag and me inside a coffee mug more times than I care to admit on MY way out the door.


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