I try to keep my morning routine fairly simple because frankly, until about 8:30am, I'm just not all there. Some would argue that I'm not all there at ANY point, but whatever.
I usually wake up to Thomas talking in his crib. I lie in bed for a while with the pillow over my head trying to get back into whatever dream I was having, then I face up to reality and haul my carcass out of bed. Once I get to his room it's a race to dress him and bring him to the kitchen before his enthusiastic yelling wakes his sister. He wakes up INSTANTLY and LOUDLY. That fact alone makes me wonder if we are actually related.
Once I have his breakfast going I indulge my need for caffeine. I have never been a huge fan of coffee, and thanks to my Nana I am a devoted tea drinker. Innernets, let me tell you I am WEIRD about my tea. Over the years I narrowed my choice to Earl Grey, which is "black tea with bergamot flavoring". Yeah, I have no idea what bergamot is either, but I luuurve it. Eventually through trial and error, I settled upon Twinings as my favorite because it's just floral-y enough and not too strong. And let's be honest here. The tea is merely a vehicle for the half-n-half I put in it. If I run out of half-n-half I won't even boil the water - it's just not worth it.
At any rate, my mornings are simple. Thomas up and dressed, TEA, then Emmie up and dressed.
Yesterday morning I was especially loopy since Hubs and I had a date Saturday night and were out sorta late. Unfortunately, my dear children didn't get the memo. Thomas woke up and started his best foghorn imitation at 6:45 am. Heaven help me what IS this kid thinking?
I staggered out of bed and got him dressed, got his breakfast going and put the water on to boil. Once the kettle was rockin' I lovingly poured the water over the teabag in my travel mug, making sure not to pour too fast and cause it to pull the stringed label into the steeping tea.
Oh yeah, I'm weird about my tea.
I replaced the lid on the mug so the water wouldn't cool off while the tea steeped, and that's when I heard Emerson call out. Hubs loves to rock Emerson in the mornings when she first wakes up, so he went in to get her while I started thinking about her breakfast. I opened the fridge, got out the container of half-n-half and pried the lid off my mug. I then then turned the mug over.
The scalding water hit me, drenched my shirt and went all over the floor.
At this point I could tell you how much it hurt - how I peeled the shirt off to get it away from my skin and how I started digging in the freezer for ice to cool the burn. But what I want to emphasize is how totally freaked out I was by the fact that the water had gone all over the floor where, on a typical day, Emmie would have been hanging out while drinking milk from her sippy cup and waiting for me to feed her.
I lost my ever-lovin' shit about that.
I stood for a moment holding my shirt away from my skin, agape at the steaming puddle on the floor, and I started to cry. When Hubs ran in to see what was going on he thought I was really hurt. Yeah, it definitely hurt and I definitely have burns on my stomach from the water, but I was far too concerned with what COULD HAVE BEEN at that point. What if Em had been right under my feet? What if she had been hit by the scalding water?
I am pretty much consumed by the what-ifs right now, and I'm half-considering putting up a baby gate to keep the kids from ever coming in the kitchen again. This really is neither a logical nor practical solution because honestly? Let's just tell the truth here. I'm trying to protect my kids from ME. From my sleep-deprived, stress-addled, uncaffeinated self.