Blurry-Eyed Morning

One of the challenges of being a parent that no one ever tells you about is just how difficult it is to come up with a schedule, and stick to it. Because in the end, no matter how much you plan, your schedule is the baby's schedule. Trying to fight that can only lead to frustration and madness.

Case in point: last night. After a week off from work, I was eager to get an early start to my morning commute. I laid out the clothes I'd need, threw a Pepsi in the fridge to nurse through the morning, made sure I knew where my keys and wallet were, charged the iPod, and went to bed by 10 p.m. My plan was to get up at 5:30 a.m., walk Mad Dog (my Yellow Labrador), and then launch myself into the early morning darkness in hopes of getting to work by 8 a.m.

And then Jordan decided to implement her own schedule. Fresh from a birthday party for a fellow two-year-old, she though that 11 p.m. was a much better bedtime for all of us (a bedtime inspired, no doubt, by the huge amount of birthday cake she'd eaten earlier). Once finally asleep, Sue and I were able to nod off, only to be jostled from bed by a screaming Jordan at 2:30 a.m., after she woke from what we assume was a nightmare. 3 a.m. and we're back asleep, only to be woken by the unmistakable sound of a dog -- the aforementioned Yellow Labrador -- vomiting.

Needless to say, my 5:30 a.m. wake up call slipped, first to 6:30, then to 7. Fortunately, I managed to salvage some of the morning by having prepared the night before, but the dog didn't get her walk and I got to work at 9.

So much for the plan. Fortunately, there's always tomorrow morning...