One day last week, a friend of mine with two young toddlers made the comment that her punks had gotten up at 7:00 in the morning, which was odd, because they both usually slept in until 8:30. She said her husband mumbled something about how it was going to be a long day.
A. Long. Day.
Because of 7 AM.
I was, perhaps, the VERY WRONG PERSON for her to complain to, but I tried to be sympathetic in my THEY WERE UP AT 7 AM consolations. I suggested that maybe she should try some stout coffee, because 7:00 IN THE MORNING! I told her that maybe they could all go to bed early that evening. When I hung up the phone, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to laugh or cry.
Then on Saturday, another friend of mine posted on Facebook that it was 6:30 on a weekend morning, and her kids were up, and JUST WHY?! Why was life so hard?!
If we slept in until 6:30 in the morning at our house, we’d celebrate with mimosas and a brunch, because isn’t 6:30 the equivalent to mid-morning, when you’re awake earlier than the Army?
We just had a new patio poured in our backyard today. I use the term backyard loosely, because the area behind our house really looks like the original Land of the Wild that Lewis and Clark scouted out. Although our front yard is finished and landscaped, our backyard isn’t exactly golf course material. In fact, it isn’t even THE RENTERS TRASHED THE PLACE kind of material. It is unexplored territory, with tall grasses and plenty of room for elk and abandoned tires to blend in during hunting season. This new patio is the beginning of an HGTV show, where landscape artists crash our place and leave us with a gorgeous pool and outdoor kitchen and fancy, brick pizza oven and lush lawns.
Except, you know… the EXACT OPPOSITE of that, because it’s going to be Hubs and myself that crash our place, so that we end up with just something other than wild grasses and dirt piles.
Yesterday, some of the prep work was done, in anticipation of today’s pour. Thing 2 was about as jacked up as a hare on seventeen Red Bulls, because BOBCAT, Y’ALL!
Brenden is a good friend of ours, and he owns his own concrete company. He pretty much made our toddler’s ENTIRE LIFE when he asked, “Hey, Thing 2? Wanna hop up here and ride with me while I unload gravel?”
And then, right before he left yesterday evening, Brenden told Thing 2 that he should be ready for the concrete truck, which was going to arrive first thing in the morning.
Do you know what Hubs and I don’t do at our house?
We NEVER EVER NOT AT ALL NO WAY EVER NEVER NIX NIX NIX tell Thing 2 that something exciting is going to happen the following morning, when it’s bedtime.
At 3:15 this morning, Thing 2 threw open his bedroom door, marched out, and hollered loud enough for people in the next county to hear, “Is the mixer truck here at my house yet? Where are my shoes?”
It goes without saying that I knew in the very depths of my heart when I was jolted awake at 3:15 today that there would not be any going back to sleep.
I was very tempted to call my friends, who think 6:30 and 7:00 are A TITCH EARLY and ask them to bring me something from Starbucks.
You know… when it opened in two hours.
So yes. We have all been up and going since 3:15 this morning, which… WHATEVER. The boy had a golf tournament in Rival Town today, and the bus was leaving from the high school at 5:45 this morning. Before I went to bed last night, I had the boy set his alarm for 5:00, and then I set my phone’s alarm AND my bedside clock alarm, because listen. I didn’t want to be THAT FAMILY who managed to oversleep when the golf team was going to march into Rival Town and claim a high school victory on the golf course.
At 4:30 this morning, I just went ahead and shut all the alarms off, because I was up, making coffee.
Let me assure you, getting the boy to the high school parking lot by 5:30 this morning was A PIECE OF CAKE. We weren’t rushed AT ALL.
In fact, my washing machine was already running at 5:30 this morning.
… Thing 2’s wish for the mixer truck to HURRY UP AND GET HERE ALREADY happened at 6:45.
I had already folded clothes and slopped hogs and milked cows and made homemade jam and canned pickles and gathered the eggs and killed a dozen rats and baled a field of hay by that time, so we took a break to watch the excitement unfold, right in our own backyard.
Thing 2 was literally DYING to get into the concrete and help spread it out himself. His protests about not being able to work alongside the crew were very vocal. That’s when one of the guys said, “Well, you don’t have any muck boots on, Buddy. If you had MUCK BOOTS… well… I reckon you could help us.”
I think he was speechless when Thing 2 shot like a rocket launcher had been fired, straight for the house, at speeds people aren’t accustomed to seeing toddlers move at. Dash Incredible only wishes he could run as fast as our kid did this morning.
The concrete guys just grinned and shook their heads, and they gave him some tools, as they stuck to their word. Brenden’s team kind of rocked, when it came to including Thing 2 in the morning’s work.
And, even though it started a little… (How do I say this in English?)… EARLY, I managed to get through it with three cups of coffee and some pep talks about how I could go to bed at maybe 6:00 tonight!