Good Morning, Sunshine!

I may have only one child, but that doesn't mean my mornings are any less hectic. Daniel has to be at camp by 9:00. Granted, his camp is 2 minutes from our house. And it's not like I'm getting ready for work -- usually just yoga, which allows me to look a lot less presentable! But if for no other reason than some comic relief (laughing at oneself is very therapeutic, don't you know?) I will give you a snapshot of what a typical summer morning is like in our house:

6:45 am -- My alarm goes off, set to B101. Nothing like getting Rob Thomas stuck in your head first thing in the morning. I hit snooze and drift off to the sound of Ollie snoring.

6:54 am -- Alarm again. If I'm feeling daring, I hit snooze one more time.

7:00 am-ish -- I drag myself out of bed, shower, and get dressed.

8:00 am -- An hour? Seriously? You may think I am crazy for taking so long to get ready. Let me assure you, only about 60 percent of that hour is devoted to hygiene and grooming. The other 40 percent is distributed between important tasks like checking e-mail, turning on the Keurig coffee machine, and picking up all of the clothing that Peter has thrown on the floor the night before.

So, back to 8:00 am -- I enter Daniel's room to "wake" him for the day. By now, he's probably been singing to himself for 15 minutes or so. He pops up when he sees me, but complains when I turn on the light and open the shades. "Too sunny, Mommy!"

This is where it gets a little muddy. I spend the next 10 to 20 minutes coaxing Daniel out of his crib to get dressed for camp. He likes to wrap himself up in his blankets and pretend he is still sleeping. If I try to grab him, he usually screams. I wrestle him out of his pajamas while he is still in his crib, then begin my negotiations. I try to lure him out by saying things like, "If you get up now, you'll be downstairs in time for Abby's Flying Fairy School." Surprisingly, that doesn't always work. Sometimes we'll play "claw machine," where I'm the claw and he's the prize to be won. I'll put imaginary quarters in the machine, move the arms of the claw, and pick him up by the feet. After two or three "drops," I go back one last time for the win.

8:15 am -- By now, Daniel is out of his crib with a clean diaper. It's time to apply sunscreen. He used to love helping me spray the sunblock on his arms and legs. Now he says things like, "I don't want lotion today." I've even found myself chasing him around the second floor of our house, spray can in hand like a weapon. I have a whole can of SPF 50 and I'm not afraid to use it! Despite this insanity, I always win.

8:20 am -- Fully dressed and lubed up, Daniel leads me downstairs for breakfast. He enjoys a cup of milk and a cereal bar while I scramble around, getting his camp bag ready and making breakfast. Occasionally, he gets tired of watching Abby's Flying Fairy School and demands that I put on one of his favorite DVD's. No matter which one he chooses, he will change his mind at least twice before I can leave him and return to breakfast preparation.

8:30 am -- Daniel sits at the kitchen table to eat breakfast. I leave the TV on. I know, I know -- I'm breaking the number one rule of good parenting. But it's Sesame Street, and it holds his interest while he eats! Otherwise, he would probably take one bite and run off to play the drums. I sit with him and eat my cereal, trying to keep him engaged in the programming and also trying to keep the flow of food moving freely into his mouth!

8:45 am -- If Daniel has sat at the table for a full 15 minutes, then I consider the morning a success. I let him play for 10 minutes before leaving for camp. After cleaning up the breakfast dishes, I sneak some sunscreen onto his face and put his shoes on his feet. When it's time to leave, I ask him to choose a truck or two to take in the car. He protests by saying, "Five minutes," and then negotiates down to "two minutes." Thank goodness he cannot yet tell time.

8:55 am -- We pile into the car and head off to camp. For the first time all morning, I can breathe. Daniel is usually happy to arrive at camp, and he barely gives me a parting glance before disappearing into the building. Another morning in the can.