The Morning Mind

Alarm bells ring constantly too early as I can barely remember my phone humming 3am as I just barely made it up and into bed last night. All the while here it is, 7:32 in the morning, which leaves me about 20 minutes to get the boy fed, wiped down and ready for school. I think about hitting snooze again, but something in the back of my head somehow reminds me that not getting up now will result in even more stress and pressure later if we miss the bus and I have to somehow tote him the 1.7miles/18 blocks to school.

The next thing I know, his lunchbox is packed – homemade soup from last night, a banana and some yogurt – and he’s nearly face down in his breakfast. I’m upstairs now, peeing and thinking of how I can barely remember doing anything up to this point in the morning. As though the morning mind kicks in to autopilot, either so used to routine that conscious thought is completely unnecessary, perhaps even purposely disabled while our system boots up for the day, or registering on an instinctual level which makes thinking irrelevant as we plod through our daily requirements. Somehow, though, a breakfast of soy milk and Puffins brand cereal just doesn’t seem right to try and apply to “instinct” though.

Just as I’m thinking all of this here he comes, up the stairs, half dressed in much too tight PJs he’s had since he was 2, forearms and calves bursting out of faded-but-once-bright blue shirt and pants. He’s carrying his cereal bowl, all the way up stairs and into the bathroom. It’s empty and he goes to place it in the bathroom sink before finally his own morning mind wakes up and we both have a good old fashioned laugh, the type they must have in England while watching cricket on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

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