By Ghada Karam of Confidential Mommy Talks

This morning I woke up at 6:38. I know this for a fact, because I set my alarm for 6:30 and I hit snooze. When I woke up, there was one minute left before the next alarm was set to go off. 

Therefore, I’m confident that 6:38 was the exact time that I woke up. What happened over the next two hours was a roller coaster of events that slapped me right square in the face and left me wondering what on earth had just happened to me. 

After waking up, I washed my face, brushed my teeth, took my vitamins and put on the YouTube workout channel that I usually follow along with. 

As I was set to begin working out, I remembered that I was still wearing my pajamas. I headed to my room to get changed. I put on my yoga pants and my first sock. Then, the baby began moving. This is always a definite sign that he will wake up soon. 

I thought it would make more sense to feed him now, instead of interrupting my workout. So, I fed him. While I was doing so, he pooped. 

He likes to do that in the morning. So, I figured it would be best to get him changed. I took off his pajamas and the dirty diaper, and then I cleaned him. But, as his diaper was so full, I decided to wash him so that he could feel fresh and clean.

As I was putting on his new diaper, his sister woke up. She was not in a good mood. She needed a hug, so I gave her one. 

I suddenly remembered that the baby was half naked, so I asked her to help me get him dressed, an offer she declined, of course (she’s three years old) and instead she opted for singing. Loud singing. 

So, I dressed the baby while pretending to enjoy the opérette and we paraded into the kitchen to get her some breakfast. 

About ten minutes later, after changing her mind a million times, I finally made her sandwich with one hand while holding the impatient baby with the other. 

As she sat down to have her breakfast, I took advantage of this “free” time to feed the baby. After all, his feeding time got interrupted and he still needed some more milk. A couple of minutes later I found my daughter standing next to me and I understood that she wasn’t going to finish her breakfast unless I was sitting next to her. 

I carried the baby into the kitchen. While I was there, I decided to have my breakfast as well. This way, I could save myself some time and we could all enjoy breakfast together. 

As I was done, and as the baby was done with his feeding, I stood up to get dressed. I quickly realized that I was wearing just a bra, yoga pants and one sock. A very appealing outfit! I got dressed immediately and went to my daughter’s room to get her clothes. 

However, the baby began crying and I went back to my room to pick him up. That’s when I realized that he had burped up and soiled his sweater. I then changed him. 

While I was doing so, my daughter followed me into my room. I asked her to get changed. As a three-year-old faithful to her species, she refused. We negotiated. 

I figured that I could throw on some makeup and finish getting ready while the negotiation was still ongoing. By the time I got fully dressed, she realized there was no more time for negotiations, as I was about to leave the house without her. She rushed to her bedroom to select a different outfit along with five bracelets and two headbands. By that time, I was too tired and it was too late to negotiate. I allowed the Christmas tree style that she chose for school, knowing that the teacher would hand all of those accessories back to me anyway. As an optimist I chose to avoid another pointless conflict. 

Now, the baby was crying, as he was left alone for too long. As I placed him in his car seat and I buckled him up, my daughter’s singing talent surfaced one more time. She burst into song while admiring her outfit in the mirror. The baby was getting more anxious in the car seat that he hated. Both of their voices were getting louder and louder. 

I rushed to get my mobile phone along with my glasses and car keys. 

I threw on my coat and helped my daughter throw on hers. 

I finally got the chance to leave the house with a singing duo. 

It was now 8:47. I had no clue how the last two hours had passed so quickly. My son was crying, my daughter looked like a Christmas tree, my ears were going to explode, I didn’t get the chance to work out, I had a lousy breakfast and we were late. 

If you’re wondering if parenting is for you, I hope this sequence of events will help you make up your mind. 

This post was originally published on Confidential Mommy Talks.

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About the Author

Ghada Karam is a little obsessed with gossiping about her kids and she blogs about the fun side of parenting: milestones, tantrums and communication! Passionate of collecting recipes (that she’ll never cook), fashion (that she can’t wear because of her kids) and kids craft (that she hopes will keep her kids quiet). Her work has also appeared on the Huffington Post, BLUNTmoms, BKK Kids, Expat Life in Thailand, Mamapedia, among others. You can follow her latest news at Confidential Mommy Talks, or get in touch with her on Facebook and Instagram.