Mornings don't go well

The cast is doing great. We are half way through the process and I won't be sad to see it go. If it was summer, that might be one thing.  Jackets and long sleeve shirts don't fit all that well over the bulk. But Luke is a trooper and hasn't complained. He really is a good kid.

Mostly.

Thankfully it didn't stop him from having a great time at Dakota's birthday party last Thursday night. It was at one of those places that has video games, regular games, putt putt, a batting cage, and go carts. Before dinner we did the inside stuff.

Evan had a ball too.  One thing I did learn was trying to teach a distracted boy how to play ski ball is tricky.

picture via Shae

Very tricky. Multiple balls went flying in directions they didn't belong.

After dinner we did the outside things- putt putt and go carts.  Do you even need to guess which was his favorite?

picture via Shae

Bless his heart, that is some kind of glee on his face.  The putt putt went okay, but he refused to let me show him how to putt correctly, and it ended up being more like shuffle board.

Meh. He had fun. 

What I'd really document today, is how my children are not morning people.  At all.

AT. ALL.

I thought there was hope for the little one. But she's been increasingly difficult to wake up in the morning. Take today for example. I finally had to pick her up and she just nuzzled her head into my neck and kept snoozing. After she moved my hair from my neck. She refuses to put her head on my shoulder if my hair is there, and always makes me move it. Is that weird?

Anyway, I finally just laid her down on the ground to change her diaper. I opened up her snap-up jammies to change her diaper, and half way through she tried to take one side, cover herself back up, then roll over to keep sleeping.  Well then.

I guess if I was that pretty when I slept, I'd want to sleep in more too.

The big one? That's where the real trouble begins.

I always turn on the hall light and open his door before I go into the kitchen and get their bags together, as a gentle reminder of what is to come. Most days when I go back into his room he's covered his head with his blanket and is moaning for me to go away. Then comes the fact that he has to sit up so I can put terrible clothes on him I've picked out, and he could not be more grumpy. "I don't like anyone" "I'm just gonna stay home by myself" and "It's too cold, I don't like this shirt, the pants are terrible" are in frequent rotation. Then there is the whining, the crying, and the growling at me.

Yes. Growling.

If he had his way, all of his days would be like this.

Spent in his jammies at home, woken naturally on his own by a full bladder and a bright sun. (that was Saturday, we had a popcorn and movie morning)

If we make it out of the door without my blood pressure boiling over, minimal tears (from various parties, your's truly included), and no swats to the behind, then I consider it a good morning.

So. Who wants to come over at ten till 7 and help me coax two small people out of bed? If you bring coffee I'll love you forever.