The Optimist:

Woke up before the kids and enjoyed a cup of cinnamon tea in the pre-dawn calm. Peace and quiet. Jeffrey was still curled up in my bed where he crawled last nigh, wanting to be near mama. Abby was talking to herself quietly in her room, unaware that I was up, and Beanie was dreaming under his heavy blankie. The plan is a healthy breakfast and then head to the Y for some cardio, weights, and kid-fun.

The Pessimist:

Dammit, I think the roof is still leaking. It’s been raining all night, and of course this is the first day of spring break and we’ve got 40 mph gusts with the rain. Might as well get up, Jeffrey’s been kicking me all night. Oh crap, now I hear Abby. I plop down on the couch, tired already, and my day hasn’t even started. My tea is cold, and now here comes Bean, grumpy that his sleep was interrupted by his sister. No school means I have to haul everyone with me to the Y, as if it isn’t hard enough to get there some days.

Reality:

I don’t mind my kids crawling into bed with me at all. Never have. It’s more because I think I should send them to their own beds that I feel guilty. But really, it’s fine with me. I like their sweet, rosy cheeks and the relaxed drooling mouths of sleepy babies. Even if the babies are 8, 6 and almost 4 now.

Is the roof leaking? I don’t see any wetness, but I hear a dripping. I’m glad I can just call the landlord if it does drip through. I stand up on a stool to feel the ceiling, but I can’t tell anything. May as well makes some tea, since I’m up now. Since I’m not a morning person, when I rarely find myself that time of day, I do enjoy the quiet and light. But it’s gray and cloudy, so no sunbeam waits for me on the sofa. I’ll check my email instead.

Abby is chatting to herself, and I decide to surprise her and go nuzzle her in own room. She thinks this is fantastic, and dissolves into a torrent of giggles. Which wakes Bean, and he stumbles into the living room, a scowl on his face, dragging his heavy blanket. I open my arms and invite him into my lap, where his grumpiness fades and he starts to tell me about the elephant in the airplane on his blanket.

Jeffrey wobbles out, his leg obviously asleep, and he winces as he plops down next to me. Bean elbows him, not wanting to share my arm. The scowling match ensues, while Abby strips naked and tells me she is going to be Darth Vader today. Excellent. As long as Darth Vader know’s how to use the potty, it’s all good.

It’s toast and yogurt for breakfast, then everyone out to the car.

When we get to the Y, I sign the kids into their respective areas, and then realize I’ve forgotten both my iPod and my water bottle. Sigh. Okay, I can do it anyway. It’s not going to be as much fun as normal, but it’s okay. I head upstairs without my usual accompaniment. The gym is packed. Oh yeah, spring break. Sigh. I have to wait for all the weight circuit machines, and am particularly annoyed at two women who are working out in tandem, but taking up way more than their allotted room. Deep breath. I move on to something else. I keep having to hit the water fountain since I forgot my water. My goal at this point is just to follow the map.

Picking the kids up, I kneel down to tie Abby’s shoes, and when I stand, Bean is gone. Jeffrey and I both wander around the vast Y calling his name, and he is nowhere. I am not panicked yet, but I am starting to be uneasy. I find him in the car, already buckled in and ready to go home. He was trying to be helpful.