Get Your Sweaty Ballsacs In the Car Now!

And other encouraging things I say to my children in the morning

“Back-to-school” is such a blissful and serene time. The family feels extra organized and orderly. Everything is in its rightful place — in color-coded folders, ready for the busy academic year ahead.

The children pick out healthy, wholesome snacks to bring to school and lay out their wrinkle-free clothes the night before.

They bed down early to achieve maximum restfulness to meet the day’s challenges.

When the alarm sounds in the morning, everyone wakes up bright-eyed and enthusiastic. We all come together for a multi-course, hot breakfast and then we go around the table and set our intentions for the day.

These include things like, “I plan to be a good listener today” or “I plan to be a helpful friend today.” My husband and I hold hands while sipping our matchalattefrappacinos and nibbling on Eggs Florentine.

These are just a few highlights from my dream that was cut short by my annoying “wind chime” alarm. The same dream featured a world in which it’s perfectly acceptable for moms to take mushrooms instead of Zoloft to get through her day.

I tap snooze, cover my head with my pillow, and continue to dream about shrooms.

Alarm chimes again and I stumble out of bed.

Shit, it’s the third day of school and we are going to be late, again!

I sprint upstairs and wake the children from a sound slumber. They grumble and whine. I grumble back, then toss their clothes on their beds.

No one is moving.

“Come on guys! We gotta get going!”

They come stumbling out of their rooms like miniature hung over frat guys.

“Mommy, can you make me crepes?” asks my seven-year-old with giant puppy eyes.

“What in the iHop do you think this is, a restaurant? No I can’t make you crepes! Here’s a spoonful of Nutella. Now get dressed!”

“Guys, did you pee? Okay, please do that. Why? Because it’s the morning and you haven’t peed in 12 hours. Why in the upside down Roblox land wouldn’t you pee? Oh come on, not on each other! Pee in the #%*!& potty!”

“Mom stop calling it a ‘potty,’ it’s so cringe!”

“I’ll stop calling it a #%&*$ potty once you both start pissing in it properly.”

I toss bags of mini Oreos at them for their snack.

“Oreos again?” They whine.

“You want Pirate’s Booty instead?”

“Hahaha pirate’s butt, pirate’s butt!”

“Speaking of butts, get yours in the car now!”

I throw on a sweatshirt over my pajamas despite the triple-digit temps, toss water bottles at my kids and trip over our hyperactive dog as I make my way to the car.

We buckle up and I race out of my neighborhood faster than you can google “castanets,” but not so fast that cops take note.

It’s going to be a great year, I think, as my kids argue over who can burp louder and whose ballsac is sweatier.

Maybe someday my mornings will resemble my dream, but until then I’ll continue to pray my kids never reveal what they eat for breakfast to their teachers.

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