If 5am is for calm and connection, then 6am is where the sh*t hits the fan. Let’s just take this week as an example.

On Wednesday, as Arnauld and I climbed the final hill before we turned onto our street, the final leg of our 5am walk, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, midhill, to see a message from my kids’ school district. They had a two-hour delay due to icy conditions. We knew all about those icy conditions because Arnauld and I had just tiptoed our two mile walk, adding nearly ten minutes onto our usual time.

When we arrived home, I checked my phone to see if my school district had a delay. No such luck. So,it was time to rearrange and make plans. I still had to wake up Adi and Rose, so I could get them to my mom’s house. I snuck into Wren’s room and held my breath before gently nudging her…to deliver the news about the delay (you never know what you’re going to when disturbing a 13 year old!). Thankfully, she didn’t bite my head off and I tried to determine a plan for getting her to school in her half asleep state. When I was sure she had an alarm set for a new wake up time and a plan to get to school, it was time to get myself ready for the day. I went through my usual routine, peppered with reminders and check-ins with the girls. “Did you fill your water bottle?” “Are your shoes on?” “We need to keep moving!”

On Thursday, after the quiet calm of the 5am walk, it was time to wake up the girls to start another day. I sat on the couch for a few extra minutes, reading “just one more slice,” savoring the quiet, before walking upstairs to wake the ladies. Rose hadn’t been feeling good, so of course, the first words I sputtered to her after a quick “good morning” were, “how are you feeling?” “Do you feel better?” “Do you think you can go to school today?”

Her response. Tears. On a good day, there is usually a 50/50 chance Rose will cry in the morning. Sometimes she is just overwhelmed by the demands I put on her so that we can all get out the door before 7am and sometimes she’s just tired. Today, I was unsure if the tears were flowing because she didn’t feel good. I decided to put that dilemma off for a bit and asked her to just get dressed. “We’ll decide about school when you’re calm.” Deciphering illness at 6am is often tricky and decisions have to be made quickly about attendance, childcare, and altered arrangements.

Each morning, as I drive the younger girls to my parent’s house, I usually review the afternoon and evening routine with everyone. I remind them of their activities. I let them know who will be picking them up, dropping them off, etc. We talk about dinner and homework, layering in all of the pieces and praying it all goes according to plan.

After dropping the girls off, I often drive the 40-60 minutes to work in silence, needing to recover from the marathon that just occurred. By the time I pull into the parking lot at work, much of the world might just be waking up. People are strolling in with coffee, chatting about the weather, perhaps easing into their day. Meanwhile, I’ve already walked two miles, navigated icy roads, negotiated a possible illness, coordinated three schedules, and made about 150 decisions and issued roughly 300 reminders.

It’s not even 8am.

And tomorrow morning at 5am, Arnauld and I will lace up our shoes again, grabbing that small pocket of calm before 6am inevitably reminds us who’s really in charge.

Where In The World am I Writing From: At my computer at the kitchen table at the end of the day.