Just re-read this email this morning. I had sent it to a friend back in 2006, describing my normal morning with my then 3 y.o., 5 y.o., and dog.
…This morning is a perfect example. Had the kids and dog. Woke up and had a good workout. Got the kids up and settled with their breakfast. Took a shower. Cut shower short to deal with 3 y.o. who peed her pants. Get everyone dressed. Get everyone to brush teeth. Deal with 3 y.o. who suddenly realizes she didn’t eat all of her Froot Loops(tm) and is devastated that I threw them out. Get everyone’s coats on, shoes on, and walk up the stairs, all while ignoring crying and whining, and having to threaten to leave said 3 y.o. at home alone if she doesn’t comply with orders. Calm down the barking dog. Think about how much my upstairs neighbours must hate me. Open the door and see that it’s raining. Run back down stairs to get boots and rain coats. Get kids out the door, find the dog who was next door at this point, and get everyone buckled into the car. Drive 5 minutes to Tim Horton’s to drop the kids with the sitter. Explain to 3 y.o. 300 times that she will not be getting any food at Tim Horton’s, no matter that she didn’t eat all of her cereal or any of her yogourt. Squelch feelings of being a bad mother, starving my child like that. Drop kids with the sitter. Drive car over to the street the house (which I still owned with my ex at the time) is on, park the car, and walk dog up to house. Drop dog off, inform ex that I will need car tonight again. Get on streetcar and go to work.