Motherhood sometimes feels as if you’re being pecked to death.

A friend told me she read that recently and I thought it was quite an appropriate analogy, particularly on a day like today…

Morning Routine Recap
Get two unwilling babes out of their warm, cozy beds.
Fix breakfast (cereal, yogurt and…first battle of the day, pretzels).
Gulp down coffee and oatmeal.
Clean up oatmeal spilled on the floor and down in the burners of the stove (dangers of fixing oatmeal prior to having coffee).
Complain to mother in Texas via email that it’s 14 degrees outside.
Referee major altercation over snowman puzzle.
Peck.
Pack snacks, lunches, and snacks for the car ride after school.
Locate backpacks, snowpants, non-snow boot shoes, hats, mittens, school folder, library books and the white sweater called “Fluffy” that doubles as a security blanket at preschool.
Suggest for the fifth time it’s time to get dressed (and prepare for at least one round of rejection of today’s clothing selections).
Brush teeth (realize it would be easier to get goats to brush their own teeth).
Brush hair.
Wash faces.
“Ow! Mom! That hurts! Aaaaaahh! You got me all wet!!”
Remove plastic squid and snake floating in sink and mop up water that’s been splashed everywhere.
Fill out school form that will sit in the car and be forgotten…again.
Dress self in gym clothes that can transition directly from Cardio Jam to volunteering at the school library (decide being totally sweaty and gross while you shelve books is just a necessary evil when re-committing to post-holiday fitness).
“Mom, I don’t want to go to school today! I’m toooooo tired!”
Peck. Peck.
Wrangle herd of two downstairs to hallway departure area and begin 10+ minute process of dressing in outerwear.
“Where are my pink boots!?!?!? I don’t want the black! My feet hurt! I want the pink oooooones!”
Wonder why on earth you ever let her buy two pairs of boots.
Press the “on” button on the house alarm that you wish were actually a keypad to a teleport machine that would take you to Cabo, by yourself, for a week.
Hightail it out of the house before the alarm arms.
Trip over loose shoes in the path.
Notice the funky smell in the garage along the way.
Hoist children padded with 15 extra pounds of winter wear into minivan.
Notice stuffed bunny on the floor of the minivan that looks like it’s been dipped in a swamp (or stepped on by toddler snow boots).
“Moommmm! My bunny is all dirty!!” Followed by giant tears.
Go back in the house (disarm alarm) to get “Ho Ho” the stuffed monkey that is essential for the 11-minute ride to school.
“I’m hungry.”
“I have to pee.”
“Mooooommmmmmyyyyy I dropped a mitten!!!!”
Peck. Peck. Peck.
Grip steering wheel in order to back the car out of the driveway and hold on tightly to last ounce of sanity.
Ride across town taking deep, cleansing breaths.
Drop off kindergartener at school.
Watch as he walks, proudly by himself, down the walkway to the school entrance.
Start to drive away.
Watch as he turns, flashes a big wide grin that shows off two newly-missing front teeth, waves, and blows you a kiss.
Heart melts a little.

The pecking is suddenly, and magically, forgotten…at least until tomorrow.