Rise and Shine

Editorial Note: This is not an entry for morning people. They won't understand the humor.

Background Information: This past week has been my turn to drive for seminary. What this means is that rather than a 40 minute round trip to meet a ride each morning (which gets me home in time to wake up Heidi at 6:30) I drive all the way to church. On a week like this one, I pick up another rider on the way, drop off at church (most often late), and drive back home, which takes about 70 minutes. This usually puts me back home right as Heidi is getting on the bus at 7 am, and just in time to get the girls breakfast and ready for school. Gordon, working from home most days, is able to assist in this process on such weeks. However, every so often, I am called upon to stay at seminary and drive the kids from church over to the high school, which means I miss the entire morning routine for everyone, and arrive home at about 8. That happened this week as well. So, the girls had a big dose of Daddy in the morning.

First of all, let me tell you how things typically go at the Thelin house in the wee morning hours when Mom is in charge. Alarms sound, and snooze buttons are struck. Several times. Finally at the last possible moment we drag ourselves from beds. We keep the lights that must be turned on to a minimum and speak in hushed tones. We all have headaches and feel terrible. We resemble little moles being forced from the comfort of our underground homes and thrust into the harsh sunlight. We walk around abstractly looking for items like lunchboxes and socks and walk past them several times before we see them. There is slow movement to the couch downstairs (this often involves carrying children who are WAY to big to be carried). From there we stumble to the bathroom, then back to the couch, then to the breakfast table, and sometimes back to the couch again. A lot of hot chocolate is consumed. I attempt to dress limp bodies. I have to wash Holly's feet on days when her toes are too "soft"--just don't even ask--before her shoes can be put on. Someone remembers homework they forgot to do. We can never find a hairbrush. We usually make the middle school bus for Heidi by meeting it at alternate locations around the neighborhood. The bus driver is very kind and stops along the way when he sees our van pursuing him through the streets honking and flashing our lights. We pretty much have given up trying to catch the elementary bus in the morning. It just creates too much stress. Usually by that point my hushed tones sound a little more like yelling. We are often late to school, but people still like us, and the nice ladies in the office have our tardy slips all filled out by the time we get there. Most of the time, Gordon just slumbers peacefully through all of this hullabaloo, and wakes up at 7:30 to get his shower and start working.

BUT, on the weeks when Gordon is on wake up duty, things are different. Gordon is notorious for being, well, obnoxious in the morning (anyone who might think him obnoxious at other times should just keep that to themselves please.) The girls dread the weeks when Daddy rules the morning. Let's put it this way: when Jeffrey was in 2nd grade he made a modernistic painting in art class that had a big sunshine and a figure, that appears to be a man, with fire shooting out of his head. The intriguing designs in the picture have lots of brilliant oranges, yellows, and reds--especially surrounding the flaming man. Jeffrey entitled it "How I Feel When Dad Wakes Me Up in the Morning." He was put in the Gifted Program after that. Anyway, the reason that Gordon is obnoxious is so he can wake HIMSELF up. At the top of his lungs, in very off-tune keys, he bellows nonsensical songs like, "Good Morning Merry Sunshine! How did you wake so soon? You scared away the birds and bees And shined away the moon!" Interestingly, this is a song that Gordon's mother used to sing to wake them up in the morning, so it is really nostalgic. He wakes everyone up on time. He turns on ALL the lights. He tries to act all witty and cheerful and chipper. It's completely false of course, because he really hates the morning, and somehow that makes it more annoying. BUT guess what? The girls actually get up themselves, get dressed by themselves, eat breakfast, and even watch cartoons on TV! They walk leisurely down to the the bottom of the driveway often laughing because Daddy is singing and dancing "Shake it Up Baby Now, Twist and Shout" in his pajamas in the middle of the street. Happily, the children then meet the bus on time, which thusly, deposits them at school on time. He's like a freaky version of Mary Poppins for cryin' out loud. Of course, I have previously laid out all the clothes, packed the lunches, and found all the homework, hairbrushes, and socks for him, but still, it just doesn't seem fair. To me. And yet, the kids all complain when I am not going to be there to wake them up. Go figure.

Usually there are tales of the morning experiences when I return home--the dreams, the funny conversations, clothing issues, the song and dance routine du jour, etc. This week though there was a classic line which I believe shall live on in Thelin family history. One day when I came back at 7:00, Heidi was still in the house, somewhat frantic because she had missed the bus, which had come early. I called to Gordon for confirmation of this and he replied in a very fake awake voice, "Oh yes, indeed! I just saw a lighted behemoth drive down the road a few minutes ago!" A what? I had to go look it up.

Keep in mind that with the daylight savings this week, it is still quite dark in the morning, so the monstrously large bus, I mean the behemoth, had all of its safety lights on. Needless to say, a bus will never be a bus again here. Morning, noon, or otherwise.

It's almost as good as Farrell dinner conversation, you gotta admit.