School mornings in my house are very much a zombie jamboree.  Who doesn’t want to get out of bed, who can’t find their clothes, who’s playing with the cat instead of eating, who doesn’t like the menu, who doesn’t want vitamins, who’s kicking who under the table, who’s looking at who above the table?  You get the picture. 

I guess I could streamline the process a bit.  I could get up earlier which would probably make me a little less irritable. But when that alarm rings, these old bones don’t seem to want to move.  And yea, I can make lunches the night before so I’m not serving up breakfast between laying slabs of salami on whole wheat bread.  But it takes every ounce of energy I can muster to drag my butt to bed after a long day.  So each morning I go through the paces while stealing glances at the clock and yelling departure updates like a flight attendant on speed.  

Well, last week Lara surprised me by getting up early, dressing herself and getting her own breakfast on the table.  Yes, I was impressed. Thankfully it has become a bit of a ritual now for her.  Something I can honestly say I really appreciate. 

This morning she asked me where the cereal dishes were because they weren’t in the cabinet.  “In the dishwasher,” I responded, adding ‘empty the dishwasher’ to my mental checklist of things to do.  Lara went ahead, pulled out two dishes, put them on the table and made breakfast for herself and her brother — cereal with rice milk.

While making their lunches the water for my coffee began hissing. I went to the dishwasher to grab a clean mug and to my surprise I realized that the dishes were not washed from last night.  I’d forgotten to turn the dishwasher on before I went to sleep.  Almost on cue I heard my children’s spoons hitting their cereal bowls. My stomach turned.

“Lara, you got the cereal dishes from the dishwasher, right?” I asked tentatively.

“Yep,” she responded. And as if she knew what I was thinking she continued with, “But don’t worry Mamma, I didn’t take the dirty ones.  The ones I took were clean.”

I forced a smile in her direction then glanced at the dishes in the dishwasher.  Most were still covered with remnants of last night’s dinner – spaghetti and clam sauce.  I wondered what ‘clean’ meant to her and kept my dirty little secret to myself. 

(c) SeptemberMom 2013