Once upon a time ...

Before children, I used to get up most mornings at 5:30 and head to the gym. A quick 5-mile run, some weight exercises, a shower, and I would be off to work or school, already having accomplished a great deal by 8am.

Now? Things are different. Sleeping until 5:30 would be considered sleeping in in our house! On weekdays, I get up at 5:15. Not because I absolutely NEED to in order to get us out the door, but because I need a few minutes to myself in the morning - and I get up, pour a cup of coffee, turn on the "lite-favorites" radio station, finish packing lunches, check my email, put dinner in the crock pot, and take a few minutes to myself before the chaos of the day begins. This worked pretty well for several weeks -- but now, the boys know that I get up that early, and have started getting up with me. That would be a great thing -- except Ben uses the opportunity to take extra time to complain about how much he doesn't want to go to school, and both boys demand that I turn on their favorite TV show, which usually ends up in a fight when I say "no".

Last week, we had one particularly challenging morning. I was up at 5:15, put dinner in the crockpot, and then Ben was up. He sat at the kitchen counter and kept me company, and then I went to get in the shower. I had ripped my last contact lens, and was forced to wear my glasses, and my eyesight is pretty horrible without my glasses. Anyway, I was in the shower, covered in shampoo, and Ben came into the bathroom and informed me that the cat had just puked in the living room. Lovely. I told Ben to leave it alone, as he likes to "help" and clean it up -- which just creates more of a mess. A minute later, Sam came into the bathroom, and was happy and cheerful (surprising, he isn't usually a morning person if woken up) -- until Ben commented, "Sam's bleeding." I look out of the shower, still covered in shampoo, and not able to see clearly, but can see that blood is pouring out of Sam's nose. Lovely. He is panicking, and in his attempt to wipe the blood off his face, blood was splattering around the bathroom. This wasn't any little drip of blood, this was a serious flow -- so I hopped out of the shower, still covered in shampoo and soap, and held a towel to Sam's face as he screamed. After several minutes (and two towels), the bleeding seemed to stop, so I got back into the shower to rinse. And when I stepped out of the shower and put on my glasses, I realized that the bathroom looked like a crime scene. Bloody towels, a bloody bathmat, a set of bloody pajamas, and blood splatters on the floor, the walls ...

I cleaned up the bathroom, and then went out to tackle the cat puke, still dressed in my towel. And glanced at the clock. 6am. Made me laugh, that the pre-children Erin was proud of herself for simply going to the gym while her peers slept!