5:08 I pull the covers back up.
5:11 She kicks them back down.
5:11 I pull them back up, and in a spirit of tenderness (or maybe it was grouchiness, I can't really remember) I suggest she stop it RIGHT NOW.
6:30 The alarm goes off--NPR, on my clock radio. Waking up to NPR basically causes me to move from nighttime sleep straight into a good nap. Probably not a good plan, now that I think of it.
6:41 I get out of bed, stepping on at least four chunks of dried plaster en route to the shower.
6:42 Shower time.
7:15 I head downstairs to find that my 12-year-old son is dressed, fed, clean, and cheerful, and he's sitting at the table reading. I scratch my head.
7:16 I let out the dog and pour a Diet Coke (for me, not the dog).
7:25 The five-year-old sleepily wanders in. The 12-year-old immediately hops up and offers to fix breakfast for her. I walk over to him, embrace him with both arms, and I gently ask him if aliens invaded his body overnight.
7:32 In wet hair and a bathrobe, I drive my son to the bus stop, while remembering all the times I swore I'd never drive my kids to the bus stop in wet hair and a bathrobe.
7:34 He makes me belly laugh, no small feat before 9 a.m. I love that boy.
7:40 Back home to find Hubs eating breakfast with our five-year-old daughter, the only member of this family who is chatty and energetic in the morning. She is debating, aloud, the merits of pigtails versus ponytails.
7:45 Wake up the other boys and fix them breakfast. Think to myself that I don't know who invented Pancakes On a Stick, but I'd like to shake his hand.
7:51 Kiss Hubs goodbye.
7:56 The five-year-old shrieks in horror at a fly that is buzzing around our kitchen table, and she runs to get the water squirt bottle in self defense.
8:03 The eleven-year-old got a new haircut the night before, so I help him figure out the best way to fix it.
8:04 It evolves into a discussion about hair product and proper blow-drying technique.
8:07 It evolves further into a talk about some of the changes your body goes through during puberty.
8:08 I realize I might need some more caffeine.
8:11 The five-year-old has now coated every surface in my kitchen with water, while singing "I'm In the Lord's Army".
8:17 Attack the eight-year-old with a ferocious hug, because when his face is still sleep-puffy, he looks just like my baby, and a hug attack is the only logical response.
8:29 Out the door with the boys and a still-pajama'd girl.
8:38 Pull up to the school. "I-love-you-Be-good-Did-you-get-your-lunch-money?-Don't-forget-to-turn-in-that-yellow-permission-slip-Where's-your-coat?-I'll-see-you-after-school-May-the-Lord-bless-you-and-keep-you-may-He-make-His-face-to-shine-upon-you...."
8:39 Sit and breathe, and listen to my daughter sing a song she is making up about a fairy named Crystal Rainbow who wanted to be on American Idol but then a big fly came up and ate her.
8:40 Realize that I am profoundly blessed. Sleepy, but blessed.