I am woman hear me ROAR! and bitch and complain and cry and..........

Mornings have gotten a little crazy over here at the Jaffe household.  It usually starts around 5:30 maybe 6:00am, if I am lucky.  One of the children will wake up and instantly be starving.  Starving like they have not been fed for days.  Yelling for food like it might be their only meal of the day.  I, half awake, stumble down the stairs to see what delicious box of cereal   delicacy I can whip up in a quick hurry while tripping over the dog seven million times, because now he's starving too.  Doesn't matter that there is still some kibble from last nights meal in his bowl, this dog wants some fresh stuff. By this time the caffeine headache has set in and all I can think about is coffee.  That's usually when the other child will awaken from their slumber, screaming for food or a BABA!
Now almost three quarters of a hour has gone by and I still have not managed to 1) pee and 2) get a coffee down my throat.  Now it is the chickens turn to eat.  Luckily they are still in the garage so I don't yet have to trek out to the barn, but that will be changing soon since these little suckers are getting pretty big and stinky.  I feed the chickens and change out the water that they insist on crapping and kicking bedding into.  Get that all done and now I have to figure out how I am going to get in the shower without the kids killing one another.  Somehow miraculously I always manage to clean myself.  I have never been one of those moms that goes to drop their kid off in pajamas looking like a straight meth addict.  I try to look like my sanity is semi-intact even if that is the furthest thing from the truth.


I am totally one of those moms that wears workout clothes with NO intention of ACTUALLY working out though.  And yes those are shape ups...I am that cool.  Thank you very much.

  Once I have showered and dressed there are still two other humans that need dressing.  For some reason this is such a excruciating task for a three, almost four year old that it demands at least one screaming match, a good cry, some serious "I HATE YOU'S", and occasionally even managing to get ones head stuck in a arm hole while crying and marching around the room screaming that he hates me. Then on to the baby.  She is pretty easy.  I think it's because by the time I get to her she can sense the mounting tension and doesn't want to test her limits.  Don't worry she makes up for it with her incessant whining throughout the remainder of the day.

Now, after hearing all this, how am I supposed to PROPERLY train a dog?  I am pretty sure that I am screwing it up.  By the time we are all getting out the door to drop Noah off at camp I still have to feed the fish and get the dog to crap outside before we can venture off.  Good lord.  Is it a wonder that there is a thing called Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.  I use to make fun of people that had it.  What a jackass.  I have been stricken.  I am chronically fatigued. 

Tahoe is wondering just what the hell he has gotten himself into.