Ohmer House 4:45am. "AhhHHhhHHhh" My eyes slowly open but my head doesn't move from the pillow. "AhhHHhhhHH" Mia is singing (at the top of her lungs) from the crib in her room. She knows its very early but the concept of being quiet so everyone else in the house can sleep hasn't occured to her.
I don't want to move. My body is tired and my stomach feels queasy. I did a boot camp like aerobics class last night and I was restless in my sleep. It's just after 5 when I put my feet on the floor. I open the door to her room and in the pitch black she continues to sing. "Good morning honey" I say to her. I can hear her start to move around in her bed, searching for all of the beanie babies she wants to bring with her to the breakfast table. "No buddies today Mia" I say as I pick her up before she can gather her toys.
I feel her diaper and I can tell it doesn't need to be changed. She hasn't wet herself in her sleep in a long time. I need to potty train her but every time I try to place her on the toilet she straightens her legs and refuses so sit. I rarely have the resilience to fight the good fight.
I walk downstairs ahead of her so I can prepare her breakfast. A piece of raisin bread, strawberry yogurt and diluted orange juice are on the menu. As I'm pouring the juice I spot her feet on the stairs. "Come on Mia, come eat". She walks into the kitchen, I lean down to lift her and I feel the strain on my shoulders from last nights class. A new episode of Fighting in the War Room has downloaded in my podcast app. I play it as Mia picks the raisins out of her bread.
She is eating at consistent pace this morning. Most times she takes about ten minutes to zone out in the chair before she tackles her food. She's being messier than usual. Yogurt is falling off the spoon into her lap and juice sloshed out of her cup onto the tray of her high chair.
She polished off the yogurt and ate half of the de raisined bread. "Aw duh". "All done"? I said. "OK". I picked up her empty yogurt cup and still full juice and disposed of them. My arms struggle to lift her weight out to the chair. Let the day begin.
