Morning Time Guilt...The Worst.

Putting my children through the morning time rush of preparing them (and myself) for school brings out the worst in all of us. Domino effect of pressure. It's like I am the anti-thesis of my unique self. Pushy, berating my five year old as she slowly meanders around like she doesn't have a care in the world (which she shouldn't - that's part of childhood). So as we rush around, trying to get them fed, making sure teeth get brushed (I'll admit, some days it doesn't happen for them - they inevitably get toothpaste on their outfit and I look like the mom who sends her slovenly children to school in dirty clothes. I have to choose the lesser of two evils.) By the time I get them in the car, strapped in and racing to work, I am amiss in sweat and not exactly corporate-material. Unfortunately my department keeps track of our comings and goings, to a fault as some of the Type-A's thrillingly yell other Type-A's about "insert my name here" being late...or disheveled...or looking oh-not-too-fresh... Some days I am overly thankful for the 17 piles of papers on my desk that keep me busy from 8 to 5 as I won't have the time to sit and feel guilty that my daughters spend 40 hours a week with women I barely know, albeit 'nice' women, but still...These are the women that are getting to watch my daughters unique nuances that I have to strive and be cognitive of when they are in my care from 5:15 p.m. thru 7:45 a.m. I get mixed reviews about sharing a "family bed" (where a mother -and if dad's in the picture - share their mattress with their children) - but I wouldn't trade it for the world.Even though I am rushing around like a frantic woman to make sure they are dressed, fed and appropriately groomed (not an everyday occurrence), snuggling together in bed and seeing them wake up happy and refreshed is usually the best part of my day - unless the dog jumps on the bed and his hair sticks to their clothes as well as we are beset with the shedding of dander-driven allergies on their clothes - which means I have to bust out the lint roller and spend an extra five minutes making sure they are free of Homer Hair. Damn dog - but SO lovable and needy, just like my offspring. Although I have had death threats from neighbors, I can't seem to part with him. Story for another time...