I was up early. Not by choice, I'll admit. But this time, I didn't lie in bed clicking my heels together, whispering, "There's no place like home" and just praying that 'home' was anywhere but where both children thought 6.30am was a good time to start the day. No, on this morning, LD barely got out one, "Muuuuummmmmmaaaaaaaaaaa!" before I was up and at 'em.

Later, I glanced at the clock. 7.30am. I looked around me. Both children fed and dressed for the day, now quietly entertaining themselves on the floors I had mopped the night before. Mumma showered and ready for the day and now in the kitchen preparing her breakfast. I was feeling like a particularly clever specimen at this moment.

I smiled to myself as I glanced over at my delightful children.

I continued to smile as I noted how we were well on track to actually be on time to visit with friends at 10am.

And still smiling, I poured my morning oats into my morning glass of hot lemon water.

What has motherhood taught me today? 6.30am is a stupid time to start the day.