Most weekday mornings, I hit the snooze button three or four times. I rub my eyes, crawl out of bed, turn on the Keurig, and make breakfast.

I wake the (unwilling) kids and sit them at the table. They are met with warnings of what will happen if they don’t eat, if they don’t get dressed, if they don’t brush their teeth on time.

I turn on the music and tell them that I’m going to take a shower.

By the time I get out, you’d better have eaten your food! START. EATING.

When I get out, I hear it. It’s the only time that I ever cringe at hearing their giggles. The fun that they’re having. I lose it.

WHY HAVE YOU NOT BEEN EATING? YOU ONLY HAVE FIVE MORE MINUTES, THEN IT’S TIME TO GET DRESSED! EAT!

These mornings don’t go well. I lose my patience, I yell, I threaten, I eventually get two kids out of the house and on the way to school with no patience and blood boiling.

BUT.

Once in a while, it happens. Once every few days, they’ll eat. They’ll get dressed, and they’ll be ready for school. And when they are ready and waiting, Ivy and I have time to sneak off to the bathroom to do her hair. We hear Jewel singing; I hum along as I brush and braid and spray. Ivy giggles and instructs.

When the dog bites, when the bee stings. When I’m feeling sad. I simply remember my fav-or-ite things, and then I don’t feel so bad.

These are the mornings that I live for.