Mercy help me, summer is here.

Two weeks into it, my kids are driving me crazy and I am further reminded why I could never be a stay-at-home mom, and – get this – I’m not the one home with them all the time.

On Tuesday and Thursday mornings, the two younger ones (can’t call them little anymore because they’re not), have speech therapy at 8 a.m. So, after days of sleeping until they want to wake up, it’s a little difficult to get them up at 6:30 a.m. to get them fed, dressed and out the door by 7:45 a.m.

I’m one of those people whose mindset during that first 30 minutes I’m awake sets my mood for at least the first half of the morning. After lunch, my inner barometer usually resets itself.

So, I say all that to say this – Tuesday morning was horrible.

I went to bed exhausted and woke up with an elbow in the small of my back and the oldest jabbering at my head about how the computer wasn’t working right.

All before the 6:30 a.m. alarm, too.

“Mia, give me five minutes. I need some coffee.”

“I need a sausage biscuit,” little Miss No Manners said.

“I need for you to go away and come back later,” I said.

She must have seen something in my eyes or heard something in my voice that made her rethink her approach because she muttered a quick, “Yes, ma’am,” and was gone.

I trudged to the kitchen and blindly put on the coffee. When the sleep cleared from my eyes, I noticed the clock said 6:05 a.m., a.k.a., the crack of dawn.

I sat down at the kitchen table to patiently wait for my elixir when I heard her coming back up the hall.

“Momma, I have a sausage biscuit?” she asked.

A raised eyebrow was shot in her general direction.

“Please?” she quantified.

“You know how to fix it yourself,” I said, and she went right to it.

I thought I might be able to salvage the morning until the youngest refused to get out of bed.

“I didn’t get my sleep out” were the first words out her mouth, and they were followed by a weeping, whining bout.

That nonsense lasted until she got some cinnamon toast. She’s kind of like her mother in that regard. Where I need my coffee, she can’t function until she gets some Gatorade and something to eat.

We made it to speech therapy on time, and now I have the wonderful option of taking them back home to the babysitter, who in my opinion, is the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Years ago, I thought that I might like to be one of those stay-at-home moms. It’s times like this that reaffirm the fact that I couldn’t do it.

So, with that said, I salute all those women who stay at home with their children.