Tornado Ellie

My father used to have this alarm clock that chirped.  It didn’t buzz when it went off, just chirp chirp chirp.  I used to love that sound, I could hear it down the hall to my room and I just thought it was so cool.  I imagine my mother and father felt less excited about the alarm clock as it was pushing them awake at an hour they didn’t wish to be.  Now that I am an adult and a forced reason to get up in the morning, I have my own alarm clock.  It doesn’t buzz, it doesn’t chirp, it chants. 

It goes off every morning at about 5:30 am on its own.  It starts off as a low whine and pretty incoherent, but as it gets louder and the chanting begins in earnest, the words are clear.  As I try desperately to silence it, the sound takes on what can only be described as incessant and shrill.  It doesn’t run on batteries or electricity, so I can’t power it down.  The only way to get this thing to be quiet is to bring it milk, a yogurt stick or pouch and then free it from its slumber chamber. 

Life before Ellie was pretty quiet.  Gabe was definitely loud, absolutely, but in his own way.  Gabe thankfully always loved his sleep and I could normally get him to stay down until the sun had fully woken itself up, but his sister is another story all together.  She pops awake with full evil intent on hounding not only me and our household, but sadly, our entire building as well.  I am thankful for loud air conditioners as they are invaluable in drowning out the sound.  Run the dishwasher in the morning and I’ve got a buffer to make even the crabbiest neighbor unable to hear anything coming from my apartment. My only other worry is her thunderous footsteps, but thankfully the dear old lady downstairs is essentially deaf (and she started out that way, Ellie had nothing to do with it)

I used to be a morning person.. Before Children, or BC for short, I would bound out of bed, walk downtown Portsmouth to Me & Ollie’s for a treat and back home again before showering and beautifying myself for work (ok, fine.. I showered and threw on fairly unwrinkled clothing).. It was like the opening credits from Grease, I had birds all around, handing me things.. I was relaxed, my hair normally got brushed while I was still in my house and I left with more than enough time to get where I was going without panic.  I was always early (annoying, huh?) and even had time to take the long way to work so I could listen just a few more minutes to the Morning Buzz.

Even with Gabe, things were still slightly on track.. It wasn’t hard to get him and myself out the door.. I sacrificed my morning walks, although there were days that I had time to take him with me for a stroll.  I showered more at night so I could still beautify myself for work (leave me alone, I am not letting this go) and my "long way to work" was via Kindercare rather than casing the streets of Portsmouth.  But it was still pretty laid back. 

With Ellie, everything changed.  She makes herself known.  There is a Facebook cartoon thing going around that makes mention of a toddler being a little cute tornado.  It is almost like someone sat in my house on any given morning and designed this with Ellie in mind. A loud, chanting, incessant tornado. She is an adorable little thing, but holy cow, she is a terror.  My mother and father take great delight in letting me know that she is just like I was with a bit of my sister Gillian thrown in for good measure.. Apparently I was the tornado part of it and Gillian covered the chanting, loud and incessant part. 

 

My mornings now resemble this—

Chanted awake at 5:30; I try in vain to stretch it out to a more reasonable hour of 6am.  I fail as it just makes her louder, more adamant and normally this is the part where she rips off her diaper and informs me that she Pee Pee Pee Pee Peeeeee

I drag myself awake, haul her out of bed and give her something, anything to eat to make it stop.  I close Gabe’s bedroom door in the hopes that he is lucky enough to get just a little more sleep while I handle the beast pacing at my feet. 

I manage to get to the bathroom and almost out before she discovers I am gone and come looking for me (thud thud thud)

Around this time I attempt to make lunches for both children while throwing a few leftovers into a bag for myself. I have no clue what I am packing, but I hope that it’s at least fairly nutritious and somewhat goes with the other items.

Gabe normally comes out around this time and immediately is seen as easy prey by his sister.  She lunged towards him to get his attention as if she has been thoroughly and utterly ignored by me (yah, right)-  Gabe’s not having it and informs me quite emphatically that she is bothering him. 

We have a period of dialogue between the two of them.. It starts out nice and I am happy and smiling and then it turns ugly in an instant.  A toy is touched, food is taken, someone is looking at the other one.. My eye starts to twitch and I can feel the wrinkles creasing themselves into my forehead.  I deliberate how much to ignore and what to kibash.  I look at the clock and depending on how much time we have, I make my decision. 

At this point, I normally herd Gabe into his room to get dressed while having to proctor him the entire time to ensure he is truly understanding what that means.  This is the child that I have watched dress faster than a costume change backstage during a 1 minute set change, yet he is physically unable to do so at home.  While I am staring him down, I have the tornado, or better yet, the Tasmanian Devil (remember how he’d just twirl and spin and wrack havoc? I can still remember that sound effect), creating a wake of toys, babies, food and you name it in my bedroom. 

With Gabe safely dressed, I capture Ellie and try to get her ready.  The best part about this is that she is still little, I can pick her up easily and with the help of my forearm keeping her from springing back up at me like a little jumping spider I get her dressed.  I get them to brush their teeth.. They like this part.. They do fight over who gets to stand on the stool and who gets to stand on the toilet with the seat down.  They switch positions everyday so I let them hash it out until I hear it getting physical. 

In the attempts to just get out the door, I throw on whatever clothing item is closest to me, drag my own toothbrush across my teeth and we hit the door going full speed. 

I get us to the car in one piece.  None of us have our hair brushed and so I try my best to beautify all of us before driving away.. I rake the brush through their hair and scrub their darling faces with a baby wipe and off we go.  I attempt to listen to the Morning Buzz and am quickly shot down because they want to listen to their songs.  And I am not allowed to sing to them either, Momma, shush.. Momma, no..

I drive the shortest, most direct route I can to get them to their respected sitters and daycamps and then tear arse to work.. I make it on time with about 10 seconds to spare. I’m proud of myself that I made it on time until I realize that I left my lunch on the counter at home.  Staying positive, I decide that this is a good thing and one less thing that I need to do tomorrow morning.  I dash into my office and sink into my chair, knowing full well that anything I am faced with today at work is NOTHING compared to what I just went through--

And as I sit, I now understand why mothers of 2 more children have this glazed look on their faces every morning.  Their hair is in a rats nest and they have toothpaste on the front of their shirts.  They are lucky if they have two matching shoes on and have learned quickly to make sure their work fridge is always stocked with back up foods in case they forget theirs from home.  They profess to love their jobs and I understand why; it is the only place where they can enjoy a modicum of quiet and control. 

So until tomorrow morning when it starts all over again, I'm going to talk on my phone without being interrupted and I am going to listen to the music I want to listen to.

 I might even sing along with it.