Eventually I will write some lofty post about starting to work as mom and whatnot, but in the meantime…this is my tribute to the working Mommy morning with a almost 2 year old.

So it’s a normal day, any day, let’s take today for instance. Sweetpea woke up several times last night yelling for “Fishy” because clearly that’s what everyone wants at 2 in the morning. Then ofcourse she wanted to get up at 4am. So it was a constant “Up?”… “Uuuuuuuuuuuuupppp!!” for what seemed like an eternity. So ofcourse around 4:30am she went back to sleep. Which was glorious. 5:30 rolls around and yup, I’m up. Putzing around in the kitchen making coffee, prepping lunches, morning routine stuff. ***Mini-celebration time here: I got to shower by myself!!!!*** Sweetpea is still sleeping. Actually she was sleeping so hard core, she refuses to wake up to lights being turned on, George’s sport’s station banter, and direct “Good morning Sweetpea.” I swore for a minute I had a teenager or something. So finally after much coaxing she wakes up. Somewhere in her life she has decided that waking up is a defined process of grogginess, where one stretches, yawns, and slowly meanders into being awake. Once awake — all hell breaks (sort of). So I set her down to get going and finish picking out my work outfit. I hear from the living room that Sweetpea has decided that the dogs need to eat more. She has opened the dog food, taken handfuls of dog food and carefully placed pieces all over the rug (to the dogs satisfaction). Dressed, I go into the bathroom to put on my make up. I’m putting on eye liner when George cautiously asks if it’s okay that she has my stick thingy (those Clinique eye “chubbies”). I look down at Sweetpea’s immense pleasure of putting my eye shadow stick thing on her lips. It’s everywhere. I smile. She is so proud of herself. We wash her face, get her dressed. At this point, I may or may not remember where her shoes have gone (they’re supposed to be in her shoe basket…but…). So we kiss George goodbye and march out of the house. I’m going through my mental checklist of keys, IDs, wallet, when Sweetpea announces she’d like to walk. Ok, that’s fine I think. We’re doing pretty good for time (it’s 6:32am…I’d REALLY like it to be 6:25am) so she walks. We talk about “Sully’s” house. We talk about the street lights changing color. We look for the moon. I have a slight panic attack when I realize I may have forgotten where the car was parked…then remember where it is (which doesn’t always happen…). We get to the car and tuck her in with her pediasure, a cheese stick and maybe some crackers. I get comfortably settled in the drivers seat with my coffee and start the drive to work. I get to the second light when I realize that in my mental checklist I had gotten distracted and forgotten my work badge. I call George. He doesn’t answer. I’m parked in front of the house at this point. I call him again. I seriously cannot leave Sweetpea in the car in City Town – City. George answers. Thankfully he brings my badge out and we rush off.

Side note, the other day I decided to count the stop lights into work and estimate how much time I spend at stop lights. When I got to 25 — I stopped counting.

Anyhow, I’m enjoying my coffee at this point (yes there are a few days where I have grabbed George’s black coffee **grumble grumble**). Goodness my morning coffee is so … good.

Sweetpea chimes in from the back for “myou-ick”. It takes me a minute to realize what she wants (music…and yes I have ONE (1) child’s CD). Got it, yes we will sing about mangos, feet, the color red, pirates and other such stuff. After a few minutes she’s enjoying her “myou-ick” and I hear her talk about her “winn–ohh” (and “uhh winn-oh”). We evaluate the temperature and count to 10 (which I think is the cutest think…six is “SicKKKK!!!”). Once we get to ten, the windows go down. I think she just likes her food, good music and a nice breeze. Sometimes she naps. Lately, not so.

We get to daycare. We walk in. It seems as soon as we get in, I notice that yes she decided to smash her cheese in her hair or her milk spilled out of her cup on her pants and something left smudges on her face. So sheepishly I hope her teachers don’t think I’m a terrible mother, we wash her hands, face and change her pants (which sometimes I don’t have a spare set). I sign her in, sometimes we read a book. Of late, she’s waved me off as if to say, this is my turf mom. You can leave now. Goodbye. So I leave. Proud that she’s so confident.

It’s probably 10 minutes into my drive to work after dropping her off that I realize that I’m still singing about mangos, feet, the color red, pirates and other such stuff. I switch to some news source and try to catch up on the news. I avoid the temptation to check Facebook/work email/email/news/search for something at the remaining 6-8 stoplights.

I get to work. 1.5 hours after leaving home.

I sigh. I’m at work and it’s 8. I really wanted to get there at 7:30. Maybe next time.

I get to my desk, take off my orange wintery jacket. I hang it up and realize that somehow I must have set my coffee mug down on my jacket just so it looks stained. I also notice that Sweetpea blew her nose on the shoulder of my jacket. Sweet. I start my day. Around 9am I realize I had forgotten to put in earrings.

Around 10 I go to the bathroom and look in the mirror. Somehow I had managed to smear off half of one eye’s eye liner. I look so uneven and awful I cringe.

10:30 or so I run into my boss. I notice he got his hair cut, has a nicely tied tie, a freshly pressed shirt, and I hate him a little bit. I feel sloppy in my pants, sweater, and flats.

I will have success next time I promise myself.

Then the next day happens and maybe she sleeps through the night or she doesn’t. Maybe I forget the milk on our way in and Sweetpea reminds me every 2.3 minutes. Maybe I hit EVERY SINGLE RED light.

I like to work right?