we have it down to an art. it’s actually painless by now. busy, but painless.
our day starts early, that’s no surprise. lincoln usually wakes up at 6ish. some days 5, if he’s feeling especially cheeky 4am. matt, bless his heart, gets up with him. changes him and entertains him while he dresses for work (i can hear them, “daddy’s belt? thank you. daddy’s shoes? thank you”). stella and i (yes she is in bed with us, usually coming in at 4ish) are summoned when he is ready to leave the house. someone needs to hold lincoln back as it is lincoln’s one and only desire to go with his daddy (but can usually be swayed by blueberries or balls).
i then pull myself from bed, usually feel like there is a bag over my head and oxygen is low. i still get up 3-4 times a night and zombie-like doesn’t even begin to describe my motions. i make a cup of coffee, i am limited to two because of breastfeeding and it is my favorite part of the morning. i get lincoln’s breakfast started, we usually share a peanut butter english muffin that we eat in front of the tv while we watch the today show. am i setting bad examples? probably, but i also like to think that i am cultivating a love for news and current events, along with a passion for peanut butter. after about 20 mintues of news and bread, and quite a few “no mommy’s coffee, hot! HOT!” we continue on the day by furiously dressing three people, two of them very wiggly people. this whole scene is usually accopanied by lots of screaming. i can’t remember the last time i have gotten ready without a baby screaming BLOODY MURDER at me. remember this the next time you think i am having a bad hair day or need makeup tips.
i make our lunches, attempt to check email quickly, and herd us all out the door. i begin the trips to and from the car. one trip with stella, one trip with lincoln, one trip with all our bags. then another trip for all forgotten items. maybe even another one if someone crapped their pants during the process. and it’s not even 8:15 in morning.
we get to the warehouse anywhere from 8:20-8:40. thank the Lord we don’t have to be punctual. i begin working shipping for my parents company, kuuma products, while the kids play. or scream, depending on the day and the moods. when my brother in law andy moved to thailand to be the production manager i took over his position and work in the mornings at the office. at about 10:30 we three head into alameda to open the store.
once we get here i again play the trips from the car game until we are all safe in the store. lincoln helps me pull the sign out front and turn on the lights. we head upstairs to attempt naps and meals. the rest of the day flies by. customers, dr. suess books, balls being thrown, cheerios being smashed into the carpet, tantrums, laughs, hugs. suddenly it’s 4:30 and we get ready to go home.
again, the trips to and from the car (this is why i don’t like going anywhere) until we are all in the house. at this point we all kind of breathe a sigh of relief. we are home. all is good. if i am lucky i get a few minutes to email/facebook. i usually attempt to clean even though lincoln is usually following behind me undoing whatever i have done. i learn to step over toys. then comes the mad scramble to make dinner and feed both before the meltdowns begin. dinner, baths and giggles, one out of the tub and then the next, soft music and low lights, baby oil and powder, some cries, some screams, bottles and books, back and forth patting, more cries and more screams, soft pats and soft snores. escape quietly.
the silence of the house is to be revered. it may not last. at any time it can come crashing down. i attempt to do what they have undone. clean up the spaghetti that was hurled on the wall. find the Tupperware on the deck outside the cat door (along with toys, socks, my hairbrush, stella’s pacifier, and anything else he thought looked fun to throw out there). dust the animal crackers off the couch. wait for their daddy to come home so we can whisper about how great they are.