My morning has been busy.

I think it comes with the job description of ‘mom’.

The baby’s schedule and mine have worked out a very agreeable coexistence.

It’s been lovely.

So, last night, when planning to frost the two cakes I had made, to take to school the next morning with the monkeys for Teacher Appreciation Week, I took into account our collective schedules.

Everything worked out very nicely …

… in my head.

Drat.

The baby woke up at the time I was to be up getting ready.  And Texas Guy got up late and was up making noise while getting ready for work.  So, I stayed in bed getting the baby back to sleep, hoping I could jump into my planned schedule for the day and try to make up for lost time.

She didn’t go back to sleep very quickly or easily.

Now I’m even later.

I finally get into the kitchen – but still in my nightgown – and start the frosting … which, of course, somehow takes a wrong turn.

Drat.

Dump and start over. … Then look at the clock.

Too late.  Time to rush the monkeys to school … without the cake.  (I put clothes on before I left.  Don’t worry.)

I get home to start the frosting and find that since my last big grocery shopping trip in town two weeks ago, I’m out of, or very low on, most of my key ingredients.

I’m starting to understand how Old Mother Hubbard felt.  (With the exception of her dog.  Ours had brisket last night, thanks to Texas Guy.)

Meanwhile, the baby is fussy.  She doesn’t think this is a good time to make frosting.  And she said so.  …  Well, not in so many words.

I finally find a recipe I can use with the ingredients left in my kitchen.

I get the frosting to the point where it needs to cool and she can wait no longer.  She’s ready to be fed and take a nap. … Now.

Drat.

She’s asleep and happy … and it’s time to turn on the mixer and mix up that frosting.

Drat.

I had laid her on my bed instead of in her crib.  Why do babies sleep better on my bed than in their own.  That’s another post for another day.  But, I was hoping that would help her stay asleep.  Also, I put a pot holder under the mixing bowl hoping it won’t be quite so loud.

And I said a quick prayer.

Prayer never hurts.

I got the frosting made and took a peek at the baby.  …  Asleep. … Yay!

Then I layer and frost the cakes and pop it into the freezer to help the frosting set faster (before I take it out into the 85° morning heat).

All ready to go.

*phew*

I go into my room … and the baby is so very happily, and peacefully, asleep.

Drat.

I pick her up, take her out to the car, and buckle her in before she can even stretch, open her eyes, and figure out what’s going on.  Then I run back into the house the get the cake.  …  And off we go!

Somehow, I manage to carry the baby and the cake through the school to its final destination.

The cake’s final destination … not the baby’s.

*phew*

I drop into my 8-year old’s classroom, but the kiddos aren’t there.  I tell her teacher (who is working her butt off – literally – to lose weight for a wedding)  how much we appreciate her … and, I have expressed my appreciation by baking a double layer chocolate cake with chocolate frosting  …  and extra calories.  I’m sorry.

On my way out, the baby and I sit with the 5-year old in the cafeteria for a quick visit.  We stay just long enough to distract a whole bunch of the kindergarteners while the staff tries to remind them to eat before their time is up.  (The whole lunchtime experience of school seems a bit odd to me.  But, that’s another post for another day.  Don’t get me started.)

I get home to find a very weird-looking bug (Have I mentioned how much I dislike bugs?!) between me and the door.

Drat.

I juggle my lunch and a fussy baby.

She’s now napping.

It’s afternoon already.

Where did my morning go?!

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