earlybirditude

We all have morning rituals.. well if you are one of those night owls I'm sure you do maintain some kind of rituals that are dictum's for each day.. I have my own very set which I'd like to share.. And whilst I'm sharing lemme also redirect you to - http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=earlybirditude

It's an early morning with Kai welcoming me into the dawn at 5 am and she makes me realize that I don't have to be the best person at the craft of motherhood but I just have to be a mom.. I see vignettes of her through the day when she has her first 5 ounces for the day.. Little moments where she reaches out for me with her open arms and flashes a smile trying to flirt me into being close to her.. Her sorrowful eyes and her slow frown developing into a helpless cry for me to attend to her amidst all the people she can't call home.. She is my baby whom I thought I wouldn't be able to love cos my heart was so full of Sol.. I thought I had no room for anyone else but with the advent of her coming in to my life I find myself resurrected.. Its going to be hell for me to raise a girl.. I can now sense the fears and angst my parents were ridden with but I know she will make the ride worth living..

Then the clock strikes 6 and its time for me to gather my energies because the preparation for the day begins.. Silly needs to be up by 6:30 and it takes me 10 minutes of cuddling and coddling.. I thank the Lord he still needs it.. Im not a sadist but I almost miss the days when I first put him in a playschool.. I would cry out on the stairs of the playschool hearing him wail and thats how we spent an hour everyday for a few months.. My children are my biggest strength and biggest handicap.. and its so visible when my son who's inherited my drama queen ways fusses over not getting 'Maggi noodles' in his lunchbox for school..

At 6:45 I rush in for a quick shower to erase the signs of burps and kiddie drool.. And I glare into the mirror at my age reflecting so many years on my face and body.. Don't get me wrong I enjoy them too.. Each scar, line, wrinkle, layer of fat is demonstration of me graduating to this age and time.. They are my trophies to myself..

At 7 I get into the kitchen and hurry with the cook at breakfast for the family and packing Kai's hot water and milk bottles for the ride to school and back.. Despite the help at home, inevitably 7:30 and no earlier is when 'Elvis has left the building'.. My morning cup of tea neatly stowed in my mug (which was quite a difficult task to excel in) and the morning newspaper supplements well towed in the crutch of my arm.. I cannot read the main sections of the paper.. I can't deal with reality.. I rather much read the gossip columns and the lives that others lead.. And its not about having a thing for celebrities.. my favorite thing to do when I have a couple of minutes is to randomly hit a blog and peep into aught else's life..

Through the journey to school Sol is lying on me and I can smell his freshly washed hair and I feel like letting him skip the day at school only so that I can get back into bed and snuggle with him (which is what I plan to do as soon as I'm done with this entry) but sense prevails and we practice the cat, rat and mat bits..

The journey back - I and Kai either have a morning catnap or we read the paper together.. Well she'd rather have that too in her mouth but oh well :-) But inevitably we both bob our heads into the outside world when we cross this building where this gramps like guy sits out in his airy balcony and reads his morning papers.. A moments lapsed and we spot the elderly lady who is huffing and puffing her way onto the ledge at the entrance of another building.. Her morning walk seems strenuous everyday.. I curse the coffee houses through the entire journey cos my craving for mocha can never be satiated.. Even my eyes desire the whiff of coffee.. The most pleasing smell to me in the whole world is of freshly roasted coffee beans and the most refreshing taste is of garlic.. Go figure..

But thats what a glimpse of my morning's like.. Whats yours?