Oh Monday morning how I love thee…said no mother ever. Getting your child out of bed after they spend the weekend at the “other parents” house is near impossible let alone getting them to do it without whining and moaning and cussing (oops, maybe the cussing was coming from me) and forget about getting them to cooperate in order to get out the door on time. I think it is only when my head starts to spin in an ungodly direction that my kid understands that Mama actually means business and Monday mornings are not optional. I am always beyond surprised when we reach camp and everyone is intact, lunch is in the car, tennis rackets are present, bathing suits and sunscreen are within reach and the biggest shocker of all..we are both wearing matching shoes (Uhhh..each and every one of you can not deny that this has happened before..black and navy pumps can be VERY close in color).

So..to the bra-less, pajama wearing, 1980s scrunchie rocking mama in the line at Starbucks this morning…you are my people. I see you and I salute you.

Cheers!