I despise Monday morning.
With the weekend still whispering in my ear, I reluctantly pick myself up out of bed and get ready for work. Now before Matty came along, this was hard enough. I was never a fan of Monday morning, but now, it's even worse. Though aside from my longing to be able to stay home with Matty weighing heavily on my mind each morning, I would say that I have our routine down nicely. It's hectic, but it works for us.
Now this morning was unlike any other. I was ready to go EARLY! This never happens! Here I am with my purse, lunch bag, errand bag and diaper bag and I'm in a slight state of confusion. What am I doing again?
I hear a little voice say, "go to work." Oh yeah.
I kiss Matty and my husband, Matt, good-bye and tell Matt that I will leave the diaper bag in his car. You see, I was trying to help HIM not forget the bag. I also tell him to let the dogs (we have three pugs) in from the yard before he leaves. Matt drops Matty off at his sister's house in the morning on his way to work. We usually walk out the door together and I pass him the diaper bag, but because I had been too "on top of things" this morning, I was ready to go early.
Actually, I lie. Early isn't even really early. Let's just call it on time. And this is a big deal because on time does not normally happen either.
I began my 15 minute drive and as I neared the exit, I sent hubby a reminder via Blackberry Messenger. All it says is "dogs." To which he replied, "diaper bag?."
Sitting on my passenger seat was the diaper bag.
I doubted his ability to remember, and in doing so, I had forgotten!
Not wanting to start the day off with a negative attitude, I laugh at myself, decide I'm lucky because I get to kiss my guys good-bye for a second time, turn left at the traffic light (my office is to the right) and take the scenic route to work. I meet them at Wawa. Although I usually drink my coffee black, I treat myself to a coffee with french vanilla creamer. Sugar makes everything better.
Remember yesterday when I said, albeit jokingly, that I was getting good at this juggling act? Well scratch that. The working mom goddesses must have been listening, and they do not have a sense of humor.