It's That Time of the.... YEAR

My morning of chaos.

This will likely end up a scene in my next novel but here’s the real-life version.

This morning I woke up to my alarm instead of to one of the kids. The alarm is the emergency plan. The back-up. Usually, someone wakes me up. Even our dog, Nya.

But no one did. Plus my husband Kyle’s away and for the first time in months, my big kids are home from boarding school for the summer so I have all four kids here. Note: I was so excited last night that I did a little singing dance, “I have my four kids… I have my four kids.” Not for public consumption.

And here’s what happened next:

Wake up. Turn on shower.

Find one kid on iPad. Kiss and hug. Look over and see it’s just a ridiculous YouTube short of teenagers doing I don’t even know what. Harmless enough. Fine. Moving on.

Go to kitchen. Get the Farmer’s Dog pouch of food out for Nya. Cut it in half on the cutting board. (Perhaps we should get 1/2 size pouches so we don’t have to slay into it with a dagger each morning? Problem for another time.)

Lean down with knees creaking to put food in her bowl. Stand up and realize other kid is literally next to me trying to scare me. Which worked. Scream bloody murder and jump as high as my weak quads will take me. Clutch chest for a solid minute, shaking, while kid laughs and grabs iPad. Chase down kid for a hug and kiss despite lethal trick.

Check email as I make a cup of coffee.

Oh look! My podcast is a top 10 book podcast on Goodpods! Have been concerned my ranking is slipping because now I release five instead of seven episodes a week. Which is supposed to make my podcast more digestible and attract new listens. Not sure the strategy is working?! But whatever.

Decide I have to post about it. Get lost in time being creative and decide to compare my show to Julia Louis-Dreyfus’s show Wiser Than Me. Which is awesome. Take screenshots. Compose post. Get ready to press “post” when realize one of three photos is totally blurry. Have to copy caption. Delete. Redo it. Post.

Then realize I forgot (ha, forgot the most exciting thing yesterday) to post the article I just wrote with Chloe Schama for Vogue on the 19 best beach reads which she asked me to write after asking me in February to confess my entire love life, which I did for their Valentine’s love stories. I am putty in her hands.

But as I go to post that, I realize the links are wrong and it still says Blank is coming out March 1st. So I go through the article and resend Chloe all the correct links to amend. And discuss our next collaboration.

Forgot the shower was on. 30 minutes have gone by. Feel terribly guilty about the environment.

But now it’s time for the kids to get dressed. Plus, it’s animal day attire at school today. WTF?

Find kids on iPad and bark how “it’s time to get dressed, go, go, go!” Meanwhile am still in my pajamas myself.

Run up and shower. Realize I can’t remember when I last used the razor. Not good. Shave. Get distracted and can’t remember if I’ve used conditioner. Probably use it twice.

Take Zoloft. Take allergy pill. Find cute outfit to wear. Remember cute outfit only fits because I’m on mounjaro. Realize it’s Wednesday and I have to do the injection. Then realize my doctor finally approved my use of estrogen patch despite my blood issue. Yippee!

Rush downstairs. Kids now dressed but on couch on iPads. One kid dressed for winter. Make kid change outfit. It’s 80 degrees out. Kid also forgot any visible sign of animals.

“What do you want for breakfast?” I ask the one kid who is ready.

“Chocolate chip pancakes.”

Yes. I am Pippa.

Look at watch. Have 15 minutes before the bus comes. Throw microwave sausages in microwave.

Kid notices. “Why do you always make sausages?”

“I don’t know. You like them?”

Grab batter. Start making pancakes. Remember mounjaro. Inject and kids don’t even notice.

Heat up pan. Smoke everywhere after I add butter. Now fan is so loud I can’t hear kids. But I can hear them just enough for one kid to say, “Mom, can’t you get all these books out of the living room already!???””

“I can’t! I have an event tomorrow.”

“Come on, why are they ready so early?”

“I had to set up!”

Kid then reminds me about birthday snack needed for school Friday as I make pancakes.

“It has to be from the nut-free donut place.”

“Fine. Can you just order them?” I beg.

“Now? They’ll be disgusting by Friday.”

Sigh.

Kid adds, “Well, maybe I can order ahead. Where’s your phone?”

No clue. Ever. Kid finds phone.

As pancakes bubbles, I grab new estrogen patch. Let’s do this! Tear it open. It’s tiny. And clear. And I can’t figure out which part to pull off. What if it gets in my fingertips as I pull off the backing like a bandaid and therefore not into my stomach where it’s supposed to go?!

“Why are you putting that on your stomach?” Kid asks.

“It’s my new medicine for being old.”

I proudly affix it. I now have my own label. I can still see the lettering on it. Did I do it correctly? No clue.

Slide batch on pancakes on plates. Toss sausages in bowls.

“Mom, the center is still uncooked!”

“Eat around it!”

“Can I have a sparkling water, please?”

Grab water to reward polite request.

Five minutes until the bus!

“Guys, we can’t miss the bus. I have a podcast at 8:30 am! Shoes and socks!”

“But I’m eating!”

“Come back to the pancakes!”

Kids grab shoes and socks.

Kids fight over who gets to use the bathroom.

Two minutes until the bus.

“Let’s go! Ring the elevator!”

“But I didn’t eat any breakfast!”

“I’ll bring the pancakes downstairs!”

“Fine, I’ll get a napkin.”

I look around the mess of the kitchen and shove everything into the sink. See Camp Meds form, which I keep forgetting despite five-alarm fire alerts from said camp. Wipe down counter as kids shuffle to the front door.

One minute to the bus.

“Backpacks!!”

At elevator. As door closes, realize I forgot to take out Nya for her street walk.

Hand plate of pancakes and napkins to one kid. Grab collar and leash while holding open door ushering dog and kids into elevator.

Go downstairs.

Offer pancakes to other families under a designated awning waiting for the bus. Kids eat on street.

Other kid still has my phone and pushes it in my face to check out the birthday donuts on Apple Pay for birthday snack. Phone doesn’t recognize me. Figures; I don’t recognize myself. Have to input credit card. Still doesn’t work. Try three more times. I’ve probably ordered eight dozen donuts at this point.

Walk dog. Dog poops.

“Mom, we’re going to be late.”

I point to the pile of poop.

“I can’t just leave it here!”

Eye roll.

Pick up poop.

“Hold the dog!”

Hand leash to kid. Bus is late. Thank god.

Try to run down street in cork platform sandals but end up doing an insane-looking tip-toe shuffle to throw away the poop bag. Discover city has inexplicably removed trash cans on both our corners. Today.

Kid holding china plate from wedding registry with remaining pancakes now chases me down the street.

“The bus is here! Take it! You’re, like, not even running!”

Kid imitates my insane-looking tip-toe shuffle while giving me the plate.

Other kid runs to me with dog.

“You forgot Nya! I have to get on the bus! Take her!”

“Go, go!!!”

Kids climb on bus as I stand holding plate of uneaten pancakes, poop bag, and dog leash, plus dog. Try to do the “I love you” sign with poop bag dangling from my hand.

See eye rolls out the windows instead of happy waves. Bus pulls away.

“Not my best morning,” I say to the other families.

Race upstairs. Give Nya a treat. Finish cleaning up kitchen. Dry my hair. Frantically write this.

Turn on Zoom for 8:30 am podcast ironically “The Danish Secret to Happy Kids” by Helen Russell which I read last night.

Decide to move to Denmark. But tomorrow is favorite color day at school. And the big kids are still asleep.

Turn on Zoom. Try to appear calm, cool, and collected. Am a minute late. Of course. Now where are my glasses?!?

Edit this article. Add photos. Get ready to send. Big kid comes in.

“What’s for breakfast?”