This Morning My Moon was in The House of Pancakes

Since I have complained so loudly, and so often, about my daughters and their morning debacles in this very space, I feel that it is only fair that I let everyone know that today,  the morning went smoothly.  No yelling, no screaming, no threatening, no foot-stomping, no tears.  And the girls stayed in good moods as well.

I have no idea what alignment of planets or sprinkling of fairy dust brought this about.  But somehow, some way, everything moved along smoothly.  Both girls got up on their own, then, with only minimal prodding,  picked out suitable, weather appropriate outfits and acceptable footwear.  And socks.  No one imploded during hair combing, which was quite remarkable, because neither girl had been interested in hair combing at all after showers yesterday.  So this morning, I untangled two masses of slept-on, curled up, just-washed hair, which often elicits a racket similar to a shed full of sheep being shorn, and that's just from Fiona, who also usually alludes to my styling techniques as the meanest of torture tactics.  That accusation is usually accompanied by full-on frowny face, foot stomping, and real tears.  

Then they each ate breakfast, and drank juice, and brought their plates into the kitchen.  Fiona even offered to rinse her oatmeal bowl.  If they hadn't had a minor scuffle during tooth-brushing and tried to sneak extra snacks to their lunches while I was in the shower, I would have suspected the girls had been replaced by well-trained androids or alien pod-people worming their way into my affection to further their plot to dominate mentally inferior earthlings and take over the planet before all of our natural resources have been utterly depleted.

Even the girls commented on the morning's sublime flow.  "We're having a good morning, huh, mom?" said Delia as I detangled her dense blond curls.  She seemed pretty pleased that things were going well. Fiona, with her usual diplomacy, added, "you haven't screamed your head off at us once."  So I hadn't.  

What I did was get the dishwasher unloaded-- remarkable not only because I usually use my clean up time for the aforementioned screaming, but also because I have recently come to realize that unloading is my most hated chore. ( I don't know why, and I'm trying not to over-analyze it. ) I also got the front rooms tidied up, checked my email, got the outdated newspapers ready to recycle and made the girls' lunches (though I apparently skimped on the snack elements) and reloaded the dishwasher.  You can do a lot in the morning when you don't have to scream like a hysterical bitch!  Who knew?  

I even had enough time to pour coffee into a travel mug-- a once-every-two-months-or-so phenomenon-- and I'm drinking it now at work as I write this in between postal customers.  Hey, this may be the day to buy a lottery ticket... You'll know if today's extraordinary good fortune continues:  I'll be blogging from Europe for a while...

Glittery morning pic from here