4 AM: 2-yr-old comes into your bed screaming for yogurt. Because it’s breakfast time…You spend the next hour and a half explaining that no civilized human eats before the sun rises.
5:36: You relent and let 2-yr-old feast on crackers & yogurt in your bed.
6:30: You alarm goes off, which your husband doesn’t hear. You are covered in crumbs and your snoring 2-yr-old. You kick husband hoping he understands he must wake up and start the morning. But QUIETLY so as not to upset the monster on your chest.
6:38: Husband stumbles out of bed and creeps around in the dark getting dressed. You try to reach for your phone without waking your slumbering child.
6:41: The 2 other kids come racing into your room. They are yelling about a Lego piece which apparently belongs to both of their Lego sets, and which, if unsuccessfully procured, will undoubtedly ruin their life.
6:41 & 23 secs: 2-yr-old wakes and joins in the Lego battle, though you are 97% sure she thinks the sole purpose of Legos is for sticking in her mouth to torment you.
6:53: Everyone is in the kitchen screaming about breakfast. By the time you manage to pull on some leggings & brush your teeth and make it down, the 2-yr-old has already thrown her eggs across the room because she wanted the Batman plate, not the Paw Patrol plate.
6:54: Your husband escapes upstairs for his morning shit, which somehow never takes less than 15 min. Your kids assault you for their gummy vitamins, which you throw at them while slicing cucumbers (the long way, NOT the round way) for the empty lunch boxes waiting on the counter.
6:56: 7 yr-old pulls out a folder from his backpack and reminds you (inform you for the first time) that he has HW to fill out questions about his family.
6:57: You curse, abandoning lunch prep and settling for the well-rounded meal of cucumbers, applesauce and oreos.
6:58-7:06: You sit with 7-yr-old and attempt not to pull all your hair out while out loud you spell Every. Fucking. Word.
7:07: Husband reemerges from his epic poop & sees the vitamins out on the counter. Panicked, he tells you he already gave them to the kids. You consider calling the pediatrician. Or poison control. But then you see the time and decide that the vitamins are probably more sugar than vit., and what kid has ever OD-ed on sugar?
I'm Worried My Therapist Hates Me: A neurotic millennial's musings and doodles on life, parenthood, and the myriad ways she can blame her mother for her troubles. 