More Coffee. Amen.

Tuesday was like most days: I woke up around 4:30, had a cup of coffee, and glanced at the paper my husband left on the kitchen table.

I did my mom check of the backpacks, wrote the notes for the kids' teachers, and put snacks into the bags of my second grader and kindergartener.

Usually, I shower and get dressed. But, I was so sleepy that I went back to bed.

I never worry about going back to bed. I have an internal clock that wakes me when I need to get up. If that fails, my husband is usually up around 5:30-6:00 so he can catch his train. It's a no-fail system.

Except for Tuesday.

I awoke with a pleasant feeling from a dream with my husband. (I think George Clooney was in the dream too, but, don't tell my husband.)

Then I see the clock on the TV--6:55.

My sleepy brain quickly wakes up. The internal mom list goes off in my head. Lizzy's bus will be here at 7:25... Peter's at 7:35... What day is it? Tuesday. Early chorus rehearsal for Tom. He has to be in by 7:45.

No one is up.

This is not good.

"Joe. You picked a Tuesday to forget to set your alarm" was the loving way I woke my husband.

"OK. Everybody wake up," I yell as I throw on my clothes and splash water on my face. No time for even the smallest amount of makeup. I don't even have time to comb my hair.

I wake my special-needs daughter, which can be tricky.

"Lizzy, we have to get up, now. We're late. Come on honey." I put a warm cloth on her face, direct her to the bathroom, get her clothes, get her dressed.

No time for her to do it herself today. Quickly, quickly. I help her put the leggings on her long legs that I am very envious of. 

"Lizzy, we'll wear the pink dress today," I say in my cheery, try-not-to-panic, mommy voice.

"Pink dress," she replies.

Now her hair.

"That hurts," she says in a pretty loud voice. I know what's coming next.

"I live in fairy land" in an even louder voice.

"Lizzy, no fairy land, the bus is going to be here."

I rush to the kitchen and quickly give her some juice and her medications. I say to myself, 1 pink pill, 1/2 a green pill.

"Do you want some cereal?"

"Yes."

I get two bowls and fill with Cheerios. Milk for her, no milk for Peter.

I now get Peter, my youngest up.

"Wakey, wakey, we are in a rush. We have to move now. The bus will be here soon."

"I don't want to go to school. I want to stay with you." His new morning saying.

"Peter, we are going to school." This is said in my I've-had-enough mommy voice.

"I want something to eat," another new phrase we say a lot.

"I have cereal at the table. Sit next to Lizzy."

"I don't want cereal. I want something to eat."

"Peter, this is not a diner. We have cereal today or nothing."

"OK mommy." I love that kid.

Now I am running around and yelling at my oldest to get ready.

"I can't wake up mom. I am sooo sorry."

"No sorry, no sorry, just wake up." This is said in my I-wonder-how-much-I-could-sell-you-for mommy voice.

The clock says 7:20.

Wait outside with Lizzy for her bus.

"Princess Lizzy, your chariot awaits," is the greeting she gets from the aide on her bus. I smile and say a quick hello to both him and the bus driver. Lizzy smiles, kisses me from the window with the help of the bus aide. And she is off.

One down.

Now I check Peter. His coat is on. Great. Yell at oldest again.

"Thomas, you are going to chorus rehearsal whether you are dressed or not. For all that is holy, please move your tail." (I didn't really say tail. I'm a mom, not a saint.)

Now I wait outside with Peter. He is pretty happy, even though he was carrying on 10 minutes ago that he was going back to bed. I like that about him. His bus comes. Get him on the bus.

"Bye mommy. I love you."

My day is made! We blow a kiss to each other.

Two down.

"Joe since your car is blocking mine, can you take Tom to chorus?"

"I'm leaving now." Mind you he is in his underwear.

"That's fine honey." 18 years of marriage, I know when to say something and when not to.

Five more minutes they are off. 

I herd them off to the door as if they are cattle.

"Remember, I have my club today, I need to be picked up at 5:00."

"Yes, I know, have a good day."

"You too, mom. I love you."

I adore that kid.

My husband and I share a very quick kiss.

"I drop him off at the front for Chorus, right" my husband says getting into the car.

"Yes. Goodbye, I love you" I yell from my front door.

"I love you too."

I love that man.

Everybody's out. I pour more coffee in my Mom cup.

Amen.

The Parent Jungle

One night a few months ago, the family was sitting around the table enjoying a nice weekend meal at home. Because my husband has a long commute and frequently doesn't get home until late on weeknights, the weekends are the one time we can all eat together.

We were laughing and enjoying each other's company when my five year-old just got up from the table and nonchalantly walked to where I was sitting. He then proceeded to spit out the contents of his mouth into my hand. For some unknown maternal reason my hand instinctively opened up. My husband looked up at me and without missing a beat said, "And we thought we would never go anywhere exotic."

We have been exploring the jungle's of parenthood for 12 years now. Everyday I am amazed and in awe of how each day can bring something so completely different from the next.

We have experienced such great joy. Watching our first son in utero dance around on the sonogram with the sound of his strong heartbeat in the background. Made all the more joyful since we had experienced previous pregnancies when the sonograms showed no heartbeat.

Seeing our daughter emerge with a huge shock of black hair and a scream that could shatter glass, knowing that at last our son was a brother.We were a family.

And laughing with complete delight when we found out we were having another boy after thinking our baby days were over. Having the wonderful feeling that someone was listening to our secret wish of having three, beautiful children.

Then there are the times when we questioned our ability to care for these precious people.

I will never forget the time my six foot husband took our first baby, then only six months, out of his crib. The "fly to mommy game" may have gone better if there hadn't been a ceiling fan in the nursery. I can still hear the sound of my precious baby's head as it hit the ceiling fan.

"Kathy, look at the baby," my husband said, in panicked voice.

"I am not looking if he has no head," was my hysterical response.

When my husband spoke with the pediatrician a short time afterward she said she knew it was a new father when she got the message: Baby hit head on ceiling fan.

Many a sleepless night has been spent tending to sick children or worrying over milestones not reached. There is nothing quite like being covered in toddler vomit to strengthen a marriage.

We have had weeks of panic as we have had to endure the wait of possibly devastating test results for our daughter. And we have had the frustration of sitting in a specialist's office only to be told they have never seen anything like our daughter and her still undiagnosed neurological disorder.

We have become partners in the truest sense of the word. We are the only two people in the world who know how the other one feels when it comes to our children. Laughter and tears have their own meaning in our world.

Little did I know, 19 years ago this Valentines Day, that when I said "yes" to marriage I was starting on a journey to a place more exotic than any jungle we could find on a map.