How This Stay-at-Home Mom Squeezes "Me Time" Into Her Morning Routine

My alarm goes off and I roll out of bed. I throw on the workout clothes I laid out last night before walking down the hall to my twins' bedroom. I pick up whoever stirs first and carry her back into my bedroom to nurse.

I put my daughter back down in her crib, where she promptly goes back to sleep, and pick up my other daughter. It's her turn to nurse. I look down at my husband, who's still sleeping soundly, and utter, "You're welcome." His morning will be quiet and easy.

I bring my daughter back to her room and turn on her stuffed dog. She needs the music to fall back to sleep.

I quickly and quietly run downstairs, fill my water bottle with ice, grab my gym bag, throw on my sneakers, and get in the car. It's cold, it's dark, and I almost hit a deer at the end of my driveway.

I'm on my way to Orangetheory. I'm worried that all of the treadmill cards will be gone by the time I get there because I should have left five minutes ago, and crap. I meant to grab a banana on my way out, but whatever. The next (almost) two hours are all MINE! Today I'm feeling '90s classics.

I get to the studio, and there is one treadmill card left. It's going to be a good day.

Class starts.

I can't stay and stretch because my husband has to get to work and my 4-year-old has to get to preschool.

I'm home. My 4-year-old is up and not screaming, so I guess the morning is going well so far. She's sitting in her chair drinking her chocolate milk and watching cartoons while my husband finishes making his own breakfast and lunch. I kiss my daughter hello and my husband goodbye, and I run upstairs for a quick shower.

I can hear the twins babbling to each other as I step out of the shower. They're not screaming, so I'll take my time drying off and getting dressed.

I go into the twins' room, where I'm greeted by shrieks and smiles. I change diapers and carry them downstairs.

Time to make breakfast: a protein smoothie for me, scrambled eggs and fruit for the twins, and egg whites with buttered toast for my 4-year-old. Today she wants a yogurt, too.

She doesn't want the yogurt, so she has given it to her sisters. There is blueberry yogurt everywhere. Also, I'm out of eggs, so instant oatmeal it is.

The twins (and the floor) are as clean as they're going to get. My 4-year-old and one of the twins are eating their oatmeal, while my other daughter is massaging hers into her head. There's literally nothing I can do about her hair right now, so I grab the twins and run upstairs to pick out everyone's clothes for the day. I realize that I've let the laundry pile up enough, and I have to tackle the mountain after drop-off today. It was going to be floors, but if I go with laundry, then I can actually watch TV for a little bit.

I still have 40 minutes before we have to leave for preschool, and the twins are dressed. My 4-year-old, however, is not. I check the weather on my phone to make sure I dressed everyone warmly enough and fall down an Instagram rabbit hole.

My daughter is still coloring at the kitchen table. I tell her that she'll lose her screen time today if she doesn't come upstairs now. I hear her frustrated scream, but she starts running for the stairs. I have half an hour left, so maybe I can dry my hair today.

My 4-year-old comes into the bathroom in a mismatched outfit. Knowing that she will not go back and put on the clothes I set out for her, I walk her back to her room to find something we can both agree on.

I hustle back to the bathroom to attempt drying my hair only to find that the twins have opened both the cabinet door and my makeup bag. My highlighter is shattered on the floor. Not like I was going to put on makeup today anyway, but that stuff wasn't cheap.

I use baby wipes to clean the makeup off the tile and the twins and realize there will be no drying my hair today. I look at the clock and realize that I should be pulling out of the driveway right now. I scoop up the twins and head downstairs. It's chilly out, and each one is now missing a sock.

I've replaced the missing socks, but in the two seconds it took me to grab car seats, the twins have gone missing. I hope that my 4-year-old is putting on her shoes like I asked her to while I go and find the girls.

They're eating dog food. Awesome.

We're finally getting in the van. My 4-year-old is throwing a fit because I put the babies in the wrong car seats. Today, she wants a clear view of her other sister. And Pandora buffers for about two seconds too long, which does not help the situation.

Cue tantrum number two when the music finally starts playing because I didn't put on the right song. My mind-reading skills are off today.

We pull into the preschool parking lot. I leave the babies in the car while I run inside to sign in my daughter. Today, she wants to show me her favorite classroom toys. I know I should get back to my car, but it's locked and I'm sure the twins will be fine for an extra couple of minutes.

I'm back in the car on my way home with the twins. They've been pushing back their morning naps, so they're still wide awake.

We're home. I have around 30 minutes to let the babies play while I clean up from breakfast. I made instant oatmeal; how is the kitchen such a disaster?

It's nap time. The twins aren't happy about it, but the laundry mountain awaits.

I think they're finally asleep. I dare to turn on the television and go back to folding laundry.

Waking a sleeping baby is not smart. Waking two sleeping babies is worse. But now it's time to go and pick up my daughter from preschool. Oddly enough, the screaming coming from my angry twins along with the fact that I folded laundry for over an hour and still didn't get through all of it doesn't bother me. In three hours, the twins will go down for their afternoon nap, my 4-year-old will get her daily dose of screen time, and I'll finally get to relax for 20 minutes. Or not. I can dream, right?