Seriously.
No matter how early I get up. No matter if I put clothes out the night before. No matter if I prepare breakfast in advance. DH, DS, and I cannot get out of the house in time for us to get to work on time!
I feel like my mornings are constant triage of what's most important- do I make sure my hair is totally dry or do I swipe on some makeup as to not frighten the six year olds at work with my puffy, crabby morning face? Do I look for my hat or tie my shoes? Do I wipe the banana off DS' hands or let him wear a pajama shirt under his overalls?
AAAAHHHH! If I get a divorce and/or end up in a mental institution, you can be sure my decline will be linked to weekday mornings. UGH.
So...AIBU?