On mornings that I sleep late, my children either do 1. of 2. things...
1. They stealthily slither down the stairs to chew open Splenda packets and take advantage of my absence.
or
2. They become clingy and insecure, and turn me into a human ant-bed, climbing and crawling all over me before finally wilting their warm, squishy bodies all over me, desperately trying to cover as much of my surface area as possible.
This morning, I was the ant pile.
I woke up covered, bruised, and lacking oxygen. I peeled them off- like wet Band-Aids, and squeezed out from under the covers.
Then I told them to snuggle daddy.
Half asleep, I fell down the stairs, praying the whole time that my muscles would wake up.
Once downstairs, I felt around until I found the coffeepot. And next to it, I found a sad, empty, aromatic bag. No coffee.
Of course my eyes flew open, nervously fluttering around the kitchen.
No Coffee.
You know that dramatic movie scene, where tragedy has happened, and the dude- wrought with pain and hopelessness let's out a "Nooooooooooooooo!" and then he rips his clothes?
That was me.
Until...
I suddenly remembered that small bag of breakfast blend I had stashed in the back of the fridge for just such an emergency.
Like a true addict, I scrambled, half sober, through the refrigerator, spilling things, and knocking things over...
I found my half-empty stash near the back, right where I had left it.
And now, here I sit.
Happily.
Recounting my adventurous morning-tales to you, over this warm, crack-like liquid that I do so amply consume.
And here come my children.
I think Graysen just fell down the stairs. Girl after my own heart.
Straight to the refrigerator and....
A small, panicked voice yells, "Mommy!" The frustrated crying begins, " There's no juice boxes!"
I don't even have to write what happened next. You know.
You know.
By the way, remember that Strawberry Bread recipe I shared with you? An amazing friend photographer just got me a picture for it. Check it out! I know you'll want to make it!
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