Fantasy vs. Reality: The Saturday Morning

You know those lovely photos you see of families enjoying down-time together where everyone looks beautiful and relaxed?  The ones where the father is artfully scruffy, the mother has sexily tousled bedhead, and the children are all scrubbed and happy and well-behaved?  Well, I just want you to know that our Saturday mornings are just like that.  We are that family.  Yep, this picture below pretty well represents us:

No, I did not steal some poor family's photo off the net.  I stole some security agency's marketing materials off the net.  Not very secure now, are they?

No, I did not steal some poor family’s photo off the net. I stole some security agency’s marketing materials off the net. Not very secure now, are they?

Ahahahahahaha!  HA!  No.  Nooooope.  Not at all.  Not a single little bit.  Fantasy vs. reality, our Saturday mornings are a little more like this:

At 6:30 a.m. Maddie runs into our room carrying Mr. Bears and throws all 50 lbs. of herself into the bed beside Jon where she proceeds to do a shamefully bad job of “lying still” for 15 minutes or so.  Meanwhile, Gabbie is also awake and snuffling around on the monitor, talking to her baby and Marty (her stuffed zebra), unless of course she’s poopy, in which case, she’ll just start yelling for you immediately.

When any pretense of further rest is shattered by Maddie’s shenanigans, one of us will roll out of bed and go off to get Gabbie.  (This was further complicated this morning by the fact that I was wearing no pants–not for any sexy-time reasons, but simply because my pajama pants where still drying when it was time to go to bed last night and rather than brave our Arctically cold closet, I chose to just throw on a t-shirt and call it good, meaning that when I got out of bed to fetch G, I had to hear M gleefully shouting, “I can see your BUM!” and giggling for like half an hour.) Gabbie’s first request will inevitably be “Baby, dress!” meaning you need to fix the dress on her doll.  Then, if it’s me picking her up, she’ll quickly follow this up with “I want Daddy.”  Sigh.  (Although, if she were older, I’m pretty sure her first request would have been “Put on some freaking pants!”)

Jon and I spend the next 15-20 minutes in complete denial of the fact that no relaxation is possible as two small children clamber on and off the bed, shoving books, stuffed animals, feet, and various other instruments of torture into every conceivable part of our bodies.  I really believe that being cavity searched by the TSA is probably preferable to 15 minutes in bed with our kids. Eventually, Gabbie will start yelling about “jeeeuuuce” and “nacks”, which means one of us has to venture downstairs to get her something to drink–and feed the cats while we’re at it, since they’re needy, whiny things in the morning, too.

Around 7:15 or so, Jon and I will give it up as a lost cause, and all of us will tromp downstairs…so that Maddie and Gabbie can start yelling at us about TV and breakfast.  They are not allowed to eat in front of the TV in the mornings, so I don’t know how they think these things are going to happen simultaneously, but that hasn’t stopped them yet.  Also, they will argue about what to watch.  Also, they will argue about what to have for breakfast.  Also, if you get to make coffee, you will be able to take approximately half a sip before a thin film of ice begins to form over it (because cold, in case that wasn’t obvious).

Once you’ve managed to wrangle the feeding, they will want to watch television, and if you can actually get them to agree on a show, you may have 30 minutes or so to relax a bit yourself (or shower, depending on your priorities), but this downtime is by no means guaranteed.  More than likely, you’ll need to break up a few disputes, chase down Gabbie one or two times, and run upstairs to grab a toy that someone forgot.  Then it will probably be time to convince everyone to get dressed and out the door for whatever errands or activities you have planned that day–because lord knows you’re not going to get anything done staying home.

Yep, that’s our usual, relaxing Saturday morning…and I’m betting yours is almost exactly the same.  Can we all just stop perpetuating the fantasy, people?  Let’s just all admit to being rumpled grumps in the morning, and call it even, shall we?

This is what we actually looked like this morning, watching cartoons after everyone had a full belly.  I just made it black and white to try and add at least a little glamour.  At least I'd put on pants by this time, right?

This is what we actually looked like this morning, watching cartoons after everyone had a full belly. I just made it black and white to try and add at least a little glamour. At least I’d put on pants by this time, right?