Tomorrow will be the end of my first week back at work. With a daycare miracle under my belt (the daycare became available on EXACTLY the day I needed it, 6 weeks before they thought it would be available! In modern times, this counts.) I thought it might be tough getting on a schedule.

Confession time. My husband did all the daycare dropoff for our first daughter and I was really hoping he’d do it again and let me take our first daughter to school instead. For 8, nearly 9 years, the only person I had to get going in the morning was myself. Now, before moms who do morning duty start looking for bricks to hurl at my head, let me tell ya that I did pickup, dinner, homework, bath and bed by myself 95% of the time since my hubby works late hours. It was a perfect plan and it worked great for our family. He agreed to daycare dropoff since he gets to sleep in a precious few minutes extra. I love him!

So this week should be cake, right? He drops off the baby, I take the schoolager. Life is good. Except the very SECOND day, he has to go to work earlier than normal and could we switch? It all worked out, but I felt like a bumbling fool. Luckily, it was just our second day, so they didn’t expect me to know the system, but I felt like I should automatically know what to do, you know? Because I’m the mom.

And the very fourth day, I have to be at work early so I plan to take my schoolager to my mom’s who will brave the carpool line for me so I can attend a meeting. Only. We. All. Oversleep. At. My. House. My mom, being the best, comes to my house to take my schoolager, I get us ready in record time, my hubby gets the baby going. Life is still good. We’re back in the saddle, baby!