Angel travels a lot for work right now, and when he’s gone I’m a 1 man show with 2 1/2 tiny sidekicks. Mornings are chaos (not even organized chaos). By the time I get to work at 8am (hopefully) I’ve been awake for nearly 3 hours, I’m sweating, I’ve reapplied deodorant, my hair needs a good brush, my clothes are wrinkled, and chances are good that I’ve used an array of swear words in rush hour traffic. 
Getting ready for the morning starts the night before. I spent an hour after the kids went to bed laying out clothes, making lunches, and packing backpacks, and from the second my alarm goes off in the morning I’m already behind. I shower and get myself ready, wake up Lucas and get him ready, get the boy’s breakfast going: frozen waffles, supply cups of milk, and baggies of dry cereal for everyone! I let the dog out, feed her, iron my work pants, do Lucas’s hair, then go wake up Joshua. I walked into his room this morning and he yells “NO!” at me in all of his 2 year old glory. I get it, dude. None of us want to be awake and I love you for your passion, but I don’t appreciate it in this moment. I pick him up out of his crib and hug him, he hits me, he smells like pee, and then I realize that he leaked through his diaper and now I smell like pee. I clean him up, get him dressed, and go change myself. Go downstairs to put on 3 pairs of shoes onto 6 feet, and start loading babies into car seats. Throw 2 backpacks, 3 lunch boxes, a work bag, a purse, and 3 drinks into the car. Hear someone yell “I HAVE TO GO POTTY!!” Forgot that I never let the dog back inside. Pull out of the driveway: 10 minutes late. 
Get to daycare and put 2 pairs of shoes back onto 4 tiny feet. Grab my purse, 2 lunch boxes, 2 backpacks, 2 baggies of cereal, 2 cups of milk, and wrangle tiny babies away from moving cars. Did I lock my car? I don’t even know where my keys are at this point. Forget it. If you’re lucky enough to sneak into my car, help yourself to the food on the floor of the backseat. Drop kids off into 4 different classrooms, put away their lunches, put a shoe back on Joshua. Ask Lucas for a hug, ask again for a hug, forget the hug. Tell him I love him, I don’t even know where he went. Make good choices

Then comes the drop off for Joshua. I open the classroom door and he starts backing into my leg and pushing. He yells “NO!” I tell him that his favorite friend is in the room. He doesn’t care. I push him forward gently with my leg. I push harder. I walk in the room and ask him to follow. He says “NO!” Again and starts to walk down the hall. I grab his arm and drag him in like a dog to the vet. He grabs my leg and trips me. He doesn’t care about his breakfast. I set it on the table, he knocks it on the floor. I pick it back up, scrape him off of my leg, and run out of the room before he can follow me. He instantly forgets that he has a mother. 
I’m leaving the daycare and feel drained, rushed, late, and like I need perfume. “Happy Monday, Mrs. Rivas!” For who? 

45 minutes of rush hour traffic later, I stop at Starbucks for a coffee refill: I’ll take a venti unless you have something larger?

Get to work, the parking lot is closed for construction. Park, walk inside, realize I forgot my coffee in the car, go back to get it, contemplate getting back in and driving home. 
It’s only 7:45am. Eye roll