It’s morning and there is swearing

Yesterday a friend posted on FB how she hates having to sort socks in winter.

Summer in Israel is mostly hellishly hot and humid but one of the perks is how quickly I can get the girls dressed and out the door in the morning – undies, sundress or t-shirt, shorts, sandals, and they’re off.

Winter, not so much. This is how it goes.

Is it a mild winter day? Or is it cold? Will it warm up in the afternoon? There are “ma’aver” clothes for spring and autumn – long sleeves and pants made out of thin cotton. Or do I put them in “footers” – thick, fleecy clothes (don’t ask me why they are called that). I think I’ll do layers. I’ll dress them in a ma’avar top with a sweater on top. Wait, what if it’s hot in the gan? Niv will take hers off if she’s hot, but will Shai’s teacher take hers off? Sometimes they don’t. I’ll tell Moran to remind them. But they’ll need to put it back on when she has her nap. I’ll tell him that too. I know he’ll forget. I better remind Nivi to take hers off if she’s hot. And put it back on if she’s cold. Ooof kibinifuck. I haven’t even started to dress them yet.

Right. I’ve decided what to dress them in. Now I’ve got to catch them. I grab a blurry Shai as she runs past me laughing and wrangle two tiny kicking legs into pants. I put two feet in the same pant leg. Oh for fucks sake. Ok, she’s dressed.

Plead with Niv to dress herself. Tell her that her cousin gets dressed all by herself. Niv tells me that she can dress herself just fine, she just doesn’t want to. I say that if she wants to go into first grade next year, she has to dress herself. She replies that when she goes into first grade, THEN she will dress herself. Kushilirabfuck. I’d rather do a televised presidential debate, drunk, than argue with this child. I dress her.

Socks. I plow through heaps of laundry. I feel a growl building in me. I shout to Moran who is, I dunno, what IS he DOING? for some help. He asks what I need. I say socks. He says, where should I look? Really? Really?

FOUND! Four socks go on four feet. I reach for  a sneaker and sand spills out. Bugger, I forgot to empty out their sneakers yesterday. Pour the sahara out of their sneakers. Four sneakers on four feet. Brush hair, ignoring cries of OW OW OW! that start before I even TOUCH their heads. Ponytails, clips, done. 

Remind Moran to take their bags.

Kisses goodbye….and they’re off.

I exhale, make a nice cup of coffee, sit down, and start with the easy part of my day: founding my start up.