My man was kind enough to let me sleep in until 6:30 this morning while he dealt with the kids.
I always thought that one day being adored by screaming fans would be heaven and that all that unbridled joy would fuel my self-worth tank. When you have four kids and two of them only know how to communicate at a screeching level of 10, the adoration gets old. As soon as my feet hit the floor, I’m verbally assaulted with the word, “Mom”, “Mommy” and little paparazzi hands coming at me from every direction. I feel like one of those hung over celebs, shielding their eyes from the cameras, face covered in dark sunglasses with a look of, “Whaaa?” on my face. I want to spin on my heels and head back in the direction of the bedroom and sleep the world away. But people always need something and little people wait for no one. I knew that breakfast had to be made, and made again (my twins LIVE for breakfast), husband out the door, older kids walking to school and then the party begins.
After repeated demands for “Dance, dance, dance!”, I put on “Don’t Stop the Party” by the Black Eyed Peas and that’s just what happens. Our a.m. dance party begins. And trust me, it will not only wake you up, but watching my twin ladies shake their three and a half-year old stuff will bring your shriveled spirit back to center. I dare any of you to not glance out your kitchen window to make sure no one is watching and start droppin’ it like it’s hot with your toddlers. It’s a great morning.