This morning...

This morning I asked my husband to remind me why we had children. Really, I did. Because I did not sign up for a 6am wake-up call from a very cranky 5 year old whose sole mission in the morning is to worm his way into going downstairs to play Angry Birds Rio Edition without permission on my work-issued iTouch.

No, I did request a dramatic interpretation of (insert any coming of age sit-com here) by my 7 year old daughter for any morning task she’s been assigned, including but not limited to properly brushing her teeth.

I never, ever, ever recall volunteering to referee a WWE match between my children, while still in their pajamas, fighting over something they were never allowed to be doing in the first place.

The “So You Think You Want to Parent?” brochure NEVER mentioned a thing about a child’s god-given talent to eat the same breakfast for a week straight and suddenly without warning declare that they feel like gagging at the very sight and smell of maple brown sugar oatmeal.

These little hoodlums did not, I repeat emphatically, DID NOT come with any warning labels telling me that the simple act of getting oneself dressed in under 20 minutes in an outfit comprised of simply fresh undies, socks, shorts and a shirt is a mission impossible.

I was unaware that even shoes with Velcro can pose a serious challenge at any given moment, in particular when the child in question has decided that dragging their feet is a better option than getting their damn shoes on. Their ability to tune out even the most persistent parent is nothing short of a gift from God. Sometimes I wish I still had the same ability, but apparently the moment a zygote formed itself in my body I lost every coping mechanism I need to survive the insanity that is THE MORNING RITUAL.

And I don’t want to hear that we should be doing the same routine day after day because then, and only then, do children learn what they need to be doing and when. Because we DO. Have. A. Freaking. Routine. But all children have the uncanny ability to come completely uncorked at the most critical juncture. They are like that copy machine in the office that senses your stress and need for immediate copies and then breaks down at that very moment.

And yet, even as I asked my husband the question “Why did we ever have children?” I knew the answer: we wanted them. Really we did, and though I often ask myself “what were we thinking” I can honestly say that I do love my fussy 5 year old at 6 am who, when asked if he needed a hug, simply put his arms up to me. That’s was all he needed, and all I needed too. A nice, long hug with little baby pat-pats from him on my back. Kissing his sweet little fuzzy head and taking him downstairs with me so he could push the on button on the coffee machine for me while I checked my facebook status.