Someone from Wales can shove it...

I love mornings as previously professed. This is evident by how much is accomplished by 9 am in our house including my early morning posts. And, as many of you know, I am a 6 day a week post girl. So when I didn’t have something up yesterday I receive this text: Your blog is not updated, is everything ok?

I typically get ready for a day at the office after MiniMac is up, fed, and out the door. I feel like this precludes me from getting ready twice. Although, it is not as if we are having Animal House style food-fights in the mornings so I am not sure from where this stems. But a funny thing happened on the way to the blog post yesterday morning.

I get up early and decide to get ready. Fully done up, I get MiniMac up and we start our morning with all kinds of goodness and smiles. Breakfast used to be an easy situation in our house, as our son has a more discerning palate than Frank Bruni, he only eats about five breakfast items. This makes choices easy. However, much like Frank Bruni, he has begin to enjoy a long and leisurely meal which has turned breakfast into a one hour process on occasion. Our child is long and skinny so calorie reduction is never an interest of ours. Eat little man, eat.

Today, we sit down to breakfast per usual. In the blink of an eye, things go sideways. For some reason, applesauce in a bowl, ready for his attention, is instead hurtled towards me. This hasn’t happened since MiniMac was about 9 months old and while I understood it then, I can honestly say I am not a big fan now. Apparently, he was letting me know he did not want applesauce this morning. And since I laughed in the face of the myth of the “Terrible Twos”, it has been jolting to discover spending just a few days with a newly appointed three year old has already proven more challenging than spending about 300 days with a two year old.

So as applesauce splatters on my freshly coiffed hair and bathrobe, I think to myself, this isn’t going to work for me. And in my surprise, I have words with him which include “We don’t do that…” followed by “and that is not cool, MiniMac.” As if my son now speaks in the lexicon of Fonzie.

My statement to him results in crocodile tears (none too silent either) and a trip to his room.
It is not even 7:30 am.

Where is JohnnyMac? Upstairs sleeping or hiding. And smart enough to know coming within 10 feet of a crying food-throwing toddler is not a mood elevator especially when morning time is not highly pleasant for JohnnyMac aka Grumplesaurus Rex.

I basically restart the morning and within minutes of my child’s return upstairs, he is happily eating his remaining applesauce. And then, he accidentally topples an entire glass of Odwalla SuperFood. Do you know this SuperFood? Bright green and not something your child can soak in before he goes to school.

Children spill. Not a problem. But we go back downstairs to undress, wash off, redress.

In the interest of time, I had to make choices. Shall I post or perhaps, actually go to work and work. Work wins, after all, my salary from blogging to date is $17.94 and some free tshirts and POM juice. JohnnyMac tags into the ring and I attempt to quickly correct my applesauce conditioning treatment.

I really came to work with potential remnants of applesauce in my hair? I will never tell.

Once in the car, I do what I often do when I want to remember freedom and mornings of peaceful existence. I flip through my iPod, find a very child-inappropriate song, turn the volume up to a point of potential auditory nerve damage and pretend its FlyGirl audition day on In Living Color.

All is well that ends well. But for the record, whomever in Wales in the 19th century coined the expression an apple a day… can shove it.