One of the more difficult...

....elements of motherhood, for me, has been the necessity of becoming a quasi-functioning morning person.

I lost the ability to sleep in long ago. And I don't really miss that, although every so often, I would love to stay in bed until 10 or so, reading the paper, drinking coffee.

What's difficult is having to rise quickly, having to throw myself immediately into the morning chaos that constitutes "getting ready" at our house, having to maintain enough of my wits to outsmart the two little people who know their mama isn't always on top of things first thing in the morning.

("Mommy, can we have fruit snacks for breakfast?"
"Oh sure, sweetie," says the woman groping her way to the coffee pot. "No, wait, Tootie, no fruit snacks. How about some yogurt?")

As you can imagine, such inconsistency doesn't sit well with a 4-year-old.

In an ideal world, I would have one cup of coffee and 30 minutes to find at least a shred of the consciousness needed to persuade Tootie that last year's Halloween costume really isn't an appropriate choice for school.

But when you have two small children, one of whom is an early riser -- a happy one, thankfully, but still early -- there's not enough time for these vital preparations.

E-man pops up the minute the first sunbeam passes through his window. I've tried to make it up before him -- but I usually fall into my deepest sleep around 4 to 5ish, so unless I use an alarm -- and we don't in our house, because Hubs also bounds from the bed at dawn -- I can't rouse myself until I hear a chirping "Mommy!" echoing down the hallway.

So I stumble to his room, pick him up and lay back down for a dozing sort of snuggle, usually interrupted after about 10 minutes by E-man's demand for breakfast.

I figure I've got several more years of foggy mornings. And then, perhaps, I can teach my little early bird to get up and rummage for his own breakfast. (And maybe to bring me that first cup of coffee.)