It's been a busy morning. You know the type- the grown-ups need to get to work, and the kids need to get to school... on time, if at all possible. You wake up at 5:30 am but hit the snooze on your phone's alarm because your toddler was fussy during the night and wound up in your bed, and you had a lousy night's sleep. You drag yourself out of your warm kokoon around 5:50, go to the bathroom, make yourself a cup of coffee, and settle in for a few minutes of quiet time to answer a few emails just to find that the Internet is out.

After resetting the modem and the router, you finally get your connection back, and then your oldest child is up for the day, asking for morning cuddles before school. You cuddle, enjoying those precious snuggles, and then prepare their breakfast, make sure they get dressed for school, finish packing their lunchbox, and set out their backpack, lunchbox and coat by the back door.

Next, you gently wake your husband and toddler, letting them know what time it is, and that you're headed to take a shower. You shower as quickly as possible, wondering when the last time you shaved your legs was. 'No time for that now,' you think, turning the water off and reaching for a towel. As you dry off, your oldest is whining, the toddler is running around with no diaper on, hubby is indisposed, and time keeps on ticking.

You diaper the toddler, get dressed at least in pants and a cami, throw your unbrushed, wet hair up on top of your head, and then proceed to finish dressing your toddler. Next, you nurse your toddler (or at least, I do), and then settle them down with a sippy cup.

You remind your oldest what time it is, asking them to get their socks and shoes on as you brush your hair and slap on some deodorant. Hubby is dressing, and you hurriedly throw on a bit of makeup and then put your still-wet hair up in a clip. It's almost time for hubs to take your oldest to school, so you and hubby make sure they've brushed their teeth well, and you run through the paragraph for your child's memory verse test at school one last time. Hugs and kisses, and they're out the door and on their way.

After the boys are gone, you fix your toddler's hair, adding a pretty bow clip to her hair. You sit her in her highchair in the kitchen, she asks to watch 'DORY' for the thousandth time. You grab the nearest charged tablet you can find and put DORY on Netflix before she starts screaming. This buys you a little time to make breakfast. You give your girl a mini muffin and her sippy cup, and then grab a bowl of yogurt and warm up some sausage links- her favorite breakfast.

While she eats, you pack your hubby's lunch. After his lunchbox is set for the day, you crack eggs and fry up some ham for yourself and your hubby. You'll have exactly seven minutes to sit down and eat together before he takes your youngest to Day School and heads to work for the day, himself.

Hubby walks in the door to a warm breakfast, and you sit and eat. When those seven minutes are up, hubby washes the breakfast dishes and helps sock and shoe your toddler, then proceeds to grab his messenger bag and needed books and papers for his classes (he's a teacher). He searches for his tablet- he usually takes it with him to school. 'It's right here,' you say, pointing to the kitchen table. 'She was watching DORY on it.' Hubby frowns and asks, 'Why can't you just use your own tablet?'

You frown- frustrated and try to explain that it was the first one you saw lying around this morning, quickly grabbed it to appease your toddler, so you could quickly continue taking care of everything before they had to be out the door. You decide not to pick a fight, knowing that it just isn't worth it. You and your husband are a good team, and you know that you both make mornings happen for the family.

More hugs and kisses. Hubby and toddler head out for the day, dodging the guys who are trimming your trees outside. You run to brush through your hair, let it air dry, brush your teeth, and then make your way through the house- picking up dirty laundry, making three beds, hanging up wet towels, fluffing couch pillows, putting stuffed friends back in their rooms, and picking up rogue toys that have made their way into the bathroom. You warm your coffee for the third time and sit down to tuck into some work. You work from home and every second counts. You'll only have 2 1/2 hours until it'll be time to pick your toddler up. 

You glance over and see your tablet. It was closer to the kitchen than your husband's was, and you just didn't see it.