I can remember reading earnest Mommy articles in parenting mags years go where these perky (usually blonde), thin and somehow coiffed mommies would talk about ‘getting up at 5am for some ‘me’ time’. I mentally snarled as I imagined them waking up at the first ding of the alarm, stretching blissfully, taking a quick shower, putting on their matching twinsets and/or lululemon yoga pants and scampering downstairs to their perfect kitchens. They’d make a fresh cappuccino in the shiny coffee makers (froth perfectly peaked), eat a bowl of fruit and yoghurt and sigh happily, leaning back to read the morning paper while shafts of sunlight streamed through the chiffon curtains.
Cut to me. For three mornings now, my eyes have opened at about 5am. This may be jetlag and will soon go away (and be replaced by my usual snorefest until CBC wakes us up with Michael Helenka’s economic smart talk) or it may not. But my reality bears no resemblance to the pictured perfection of this so called ‘me’ time. I drag my sorry ass into a pair of too big pjs, put on the fuzzy slippers and trudge downstairs. I make a cup of coffee and a Montreal bagel (ok – its Starbucks and a Montreal bagel – this is the poshest part of the event) and sit at the kitchen table feeling shell shocked. I try and flip through a few pages of Entertainment Weekly (the only mag i actually subscribe too. Should I be admitting to that? hmmm) while my brain literally whirrs. Truly. I can hear it. This is how it sounds from the inside…
“wonder what time the baby will get up ,does Lo have everything she needs for school, god this house is a fucking mess, i need to buy milk and mustard, i wonder if that agency is going to train and if they don i wonder what month its going to be because i’m going to need to plan for daycare but i don’t want to put Beckett in daycare too soon because she’s only just starting to really bond, oh my god she’s so cute, i need to take her for blood tests, iwonder if the clinic is going to have enough HINI vaccine for us this week, i hate those bottles they always leak, i wonder if you can return bottles, i need to go back to the gym, i wonder if the gym down the street has better caregivers at the daycare than they used to – those women were like Jabba the Hutt’s offspring, i wonder if i can jog with the stroller, i need a warm coat for Beckett, maybe I’ll to the good second hand clothes store this week, man are my nails a mess, how much money can i not earn til the end of the year and get away with it, i better cook something and freeze it or we’ll be eating take out all week, i need to go to the gym (oh yeah, i thought that already but its really true), i want a new sweater, the mommy wardrobe is different than the work wardrobe, guess that’s why god invented the Gap, i wonder when Russ’s parents are going to come and visit, i need to organize my home office, is that the baby squeaking….?”
By then, Beckett is often waking up and my official ‘me time’ comes crashing to an end. Alternately, Lo shuffles downstairs at 5:30, quickly followed by Russ. We have an early breakfast and then play with the baby who is usually in a fabulous mood in the morning and we watch her giggle and coo and copy us tilting our heads back and forth.
Screw you skinny, coiffed, lululemon mommy image. THIS is perfection…






































