Gaaah! 8:49??? My Tuesday-morning aerobics class starts at 9:15, and here I am, snuggled up in bed, two kids at my side, all dozy in "perma-nummy" mode where Gavriel Zev latches at 7:30 a.m., falls asleep contentedly, and doesn't let go until he is ripped - literally, ripped! - from my bosom.
We are sprawled that way mostly because we are all three exhausted from his not one but two half-hour screaming fits in the middle of the night.
"Hold on a second, guys."
Up, out of the bedroom, downstairs for tin of pears. Toss slices of last night's yummy bread in toaster, toss pears into snack cups, fill sippy cups. Wash, inhaler - can't be collapsing on the gym floor, get mostly dressed. Spread cream cheese on toast, pack everything in diaper bag.
Grab outfit for Naomi Rivka - no pink, yay! Talk Naomi Rivka into wearing non-pink outfit by saying there is NO DISCUSSION - tomorrow she can wear pink again. Check GZ's diaper - yay, dry! Do up the leg snaps on yesterday's outfit, which he wore to sleep in. What's another 24 hours in the same clothes? He's a baby; people expect him to look a little smeary!
Three pairs of socks, hats, shoes for everybody. Whoops - skirt for me over my yoga pants! Cannot tell you how many times I have nearly forgotten a skirt over the yoga pants, because when you have on yoga pants, you just feel dressed.
Hop in car, drive without incident to community centre. Unload kids and march them to the childcare room. A little quiveriness on GZ's part, but he rallies when he sees his snack cup of pear; hand him a fork and he quickly forgets I exist.
Run to gym, peel off skirt and hat and take my place near the nose of the crazy bee on the gym floor. Only 20 minutes late, and I didn't yell or scare the kids or talk about how late I was... like I usually do when we're running FIVE minutes late. Amazing, simply amazing.