I will be the first to admit that our mornings are a little hectic around here.
Somehow, back in the days of me working full-time, I managed to get myself up and dressed, get two toddlers up and dressed – and we would all be buckled into the car and heading for daycare and work no later than 7 am every single morning.
Pretty sure I even managed to shower on those mornings.
(This was their last day of daycare. Could they have been any cuter?)
I no longer work outside of the home, and I have one kid to get on the bus and another kid to drop off at preschool and another one who is an all-star at making messes – but I don’t have to shower or look decent or do much of anything in the mornings really. Yet things are more chaotic now than ever.
Someone always wants to start a “project” before 7 am.
“I’m just going to need some string, an empty egg carton, a toilet paper holder and some scissors. Okay, mom? Can you get that for me? RIGHT NOW?”
And someone always needs socks.
Or help getting the toothpaste opened.
And at least one morning every week I have a fairly important conversation with one of my kids. Last week’s conversation went something like this:
Miles (age 6): Mom – do we have the same skin?
Me: Yup. We sure do.
Miles: But – just the same color, right? Not the same texture.
Me: We have the same skin, buddy.
Miles: But – my forehead feels really smooth. And your forehead (feels my forehead) is really bumpy.
Miles: And it has all those lines on it.
It’s just really hard to count them all because they’re so close together.
Miles: It’s a lot like the rings of a tree. You know how when you cut a tree down, you can count the rings to see how old the tree is? It’s like that with the lines on your forehead.
Yes – conversations like that take up a large part of my mornings.
But somehow, despite all of the crazy and the chaos, we have yet to miss the bus. Score!
I have yet to drop my daughter off at preschool more than 15 minutes late. Okay, 20…
And the 3 year old gets out of his pajamas and dressed at least twice a week. Double score!
In fact, I’m not going to lie. I was starting to feel a little cocky last week. I was pretty much feeling like I had this mom thing totally figured out.
Did I have wrinkles on my forehead resembling a dead tree’s rings? Yes.
Did my 3-year-old ask me why he had to wear his pajamas all day? Possibly.
But were my kids fed, happy and healthy? Yes.
Boom – I was winning.
And then my kindergartner got off the bus last week and said,
“Mom – you forgot to feed me breakfast this morning.”
BANG CRASH SMASHHHHHHHH
That was the sound of my Mother of the Year award shattering into a million pieces on our driveway.
Me: What? I didn’t feed you breakfast?
Him: Nope. You forgot.
Me: Did dad feed you breakfast?
Him: No. He said you would.
Me: Did you ask me for breakfast?
Him: No – but I thought you were making it for me, but then you ate it yourself.
Which I did recall eating a bowl of cereal much earlier in the morning than usual…
So – yes – I’m the mom that sent her sweet little kindergartner to school without breakfast.
That would be me.
But here’s the great news – I’m not alone! No – I’m not.
In fact, in a recent survey conducted by Eggo, it was found that a whopping 37% of moms would use the term traveling circus to describe their morning routine. And 22% compared their mornings to a fire drill in a movie theater.**
Yup – sounds about right.
And it’s almost like my son’s school reported me to the official “Eggo Office” for neglecting to feed my child breakfast, because the very next day I received an email from them asking if I’d like to try their brand new Eggo Bites™.
Ummm… YES, PLEASE!
Eggo Bites™ are the new favorite breakfast meal around here – and I’m quite confident that I’ll never forget to feed my kids again. These portable pouches are microwaveable and filled with bite-sized, flavored waffles or French Toast Bites.
It’s safe to say that my kids are 100% obsessed.
And so am I. Not only are my kids getting a hot breakfast every single morning, we now have way more time for projects before school. And important discussions – that hopefully have nothing to do with my forehead wrinkles.
In fact, yesterday my kids ate breakfast twice.
And I still had time to glue my Mother of the Year award back together before the bus came.
Trust me when I tell you you’re going to want to try the new Eggo Bites!
**Survey results courtesy of Impulse Research Corp, Eggo Bites Survey 2014
This is a sponsored post. All opinions are my own.
I was sitting here during naptime today thinking of all the ways that I have already failed as a mother…
Or how when Alice isn’t listening to me, and I want her to come here right now I tell her there’s a monster behind her so that she’ll run, and I don’t have to wait…
I started feeling like a really bad mom.
But then I started thinking about you, and I felt a lot better. I mean – you were (and are) a great mom! But you definitely made your mistakes along the way. In fact, I took the liberty of making a list of a few moments that were less than great…
#1 – Rather than just tell me I couldn’t sing – you told me I had a rare voice gene that didn’t work with microphone “technology”
#2 – Rather than just tell me that I couldn’t dance, and you didn’t like sitting through my dance classes or recitals – you told me I would become paralyzed if I did organized dance
And probably the biggest and most embarrassing thing you ever did…
You didn’t let me shave my legs until I was nearly 15 years old!
Mom – WE’RE GREEK! Even my teachers started asking me when I was going to get to shave my legs.
And when you sent me to that pool party and told me that NO ONE was shaving their bikini lines – well – YOU WERE WRONG!
Whew – glad I got that off my chest. Anyways – thanks for making me feel so much better about how I’m doing as a mom.
On a side note: I would like to thank everyone that coordinated the parade in my honor to celebrate the day that I was allowed to shave my legs. Your support made me feel so special – despite the fact that my legs were covered in bandaids.
You know how some people are really, really pretty – but they don’t know it? I had always assumed that’s how it was with me and overall sexiness.
I figured I was probably crazy sexy, I just didn’t realize it – and no one had ever bothered to tell me because they figured that I knew.
That is, until one night in college when I knew – without a doubt – that I was NOT sexy, and probably never would be.
The realization came after reading an article in Glamour magazine about how to be sexy. It seemed easy enough, and I decided to test out one of their tips that very night.
Even Steven and I were at a bar with some friends, when I excused myself to use the restroom.
Taking the magazine’s advice, I took off my underwear (oh yes – I did). And then I walked back to Even Steven, and I slipped them into his hand.
Now – what this fab article could have pointed out was that you should be wearing sexy underwear when you do this. Something black, lacy – a thong maybe?
Unfortunately, I was wearing my absolute favorite most comfortable pair of granny panties – in beige. They were amazing. I loved them. And I wore them as often as I possibly could.
My attempt to slip my underwear in his hand didn’t go as I had planned. My briefs were so large, that they could not be confined to a single hand – it took two.
“What am I supposed to do with these?” he asked.
“I wore them here,” I said in my huskiest voice. “I just slipped them off in the bathroom.”
“Well – what am I supposed to do with them now? They’re HUGE!”
“Put them in your pocket,” I suggested.
But they didn’t fit in his pocket. And while the magazine hadn’t spelled out exact steps for this situation, I was pretty sure that going back into the bathroom to put them back on wasn’t “sexy.”
So I swished over to the trash can and threw them away while puckering my lips at Even Steven and trying to look mysterious.
Then I grabbed some straws from the bar and showed all his friends how to make farting noises.