Mornings have never been my time to shine. When I first open my eyes, or have them pried open for me, I can hardly see. Even with little faces pressed right up against mine, I can still be confused as to who is there interrupting my slumber.
Honestly, my eyes look like two pissholes in the snow and my hair, a ratty-ass monsoon. My balance is off. I stagger, sway and bump into walls, even. No, this hangover-like awakening is not a result of a big night out or insomnia nor is it because I’ve been worn down by my parenting duties in the night. Nope. No night feedings, here. With or without wet beds and bad dreams, my day begins the same way. This is just me in the morning and it always has been.