For most of my time as a mom, I haven’t really understood why Monday has had such a bad rap. Between homeschooling and not working a job with traditional hours, it was just another day for the most part. My how things have changed!
I now present to you, our morning:
My alarm goes off and I get out of bed cheerfully (even though more sleep would be nice). First, I wake up the girls per their request the night before. The daughter who insisted she wanted to shower first, attempts to get out of waking up by saying she has a stomach ache. I immediately shut her down with, “I have to work today so your brother is going to Papaw’s and he won’t tolerate fake illness to get out of school.” I check for approval of today’s shirt selection then usher her off to the shower. She asked me to find sweatpants because it’s gym day, so I retrieve three pairs of different sizes and styles because nothing ever fits this one the way I expect it to.
Meanwhile, my oldest daughter went down to make herself breakfast so I go to check progress. I find her in the living room, box of oatmeal on the floor, remote in hand, choosing which Talking Tom episode she wants to watch. As calmly as possible, I remind her that you can’t make breakfast in the living room, and watching tv before school is not a good idea. I’m proud of myself for still being fairly chill, despite my two darlings moving at a less than desirable pace.
I return upstairs to find that my 7 year old has yet to start the shower. She peeks out to confirm I’m in the room, then casually enters the shower as though it’s a Sunday. This is when I decide to do the intentional breath work my therapist taught me, before engaging in the daily sock hunt. Socks are my laundry nemesis. Matches seem to separate immediately upon leaving the package, and the surviving pairs are separated by the holes my children inevitably manage to put in one of them. Socks have a max shelf life of 1.27 months in our house. While making sure no one will go sockless, I observe the girls swapping out to start round two of this morning’s showering. Finally, back on track.
While still in a towel, my daughter picks up her shirt with disdain (the one that was approved maybe 25 minutes earlier), and informs me, “it’s cold in my classroom.” Suddenly, the short-sleeved shirt she was going to wear today because it’s gym day and she’s “always hot in gym class” isn’t going to cut it. I suggest a sweatshirt for her classroom and her rebuttal is that her teacher won’t allow any coats to be worn in class. I’m sorry, did I say anything about wearing a coat in class?! She tries to insist I need to email the teacher to get permission to wear a sweatshirt- why my children think sweatshirts are coats is beyond me. Sensing defeat, she resumes getting dressed at a pace somewhere just below snail.
My oldest wakes up on his own at this time (this kid was definitely my favorite today). He starts getting ready uneventfully, until he gets to the socks. Apparently, the tall socks I’ve successfully matched for him will be impossible to get on with the joggers he’s wearing for gym class. Did you know that it takes a full 10 minutes for my son to get said joggers off? Neither did I. It’s at this moment that I check the time to find it is 10 after 8. The tardy bell rings at 8:45…the odds are not in our favor. My son takes one clean sock and one dirty sock that are to his satisfaction (he’s a 10 year old boy, who cares). We’ve reached the halfway point!
I note that my 9 year old is out of the shower and dressed. Praise. Last but not least, I wake my youngest.
Me: Come on buddy, it’s time to take the kids to school.
4yo: I just want more sleep! You take the kids to school and I’ll sleep more, then you come back.
Me: That’s not going to work. What if I get in a car accident?
4yo: Then you’d die?
Me: No! I just meant, that I might not be able to get back here if something happened and you’d be alone.
4yo: Because you’d be dead?
Me: No buddy, I just meant that I might have to go somewhere else.
4yo: Then Drew would have to come home and drive your car.
Me: Maybe, but that’s too long for you to be alone.
4yo: Would Drew get in a car wreck and die too?
4yo: Because is Drew strong?
Me: Yes, he’s strong.
4yo: Are you strong?
Me: I’m pretty strong, actually.
4yo: Then why would you die in a car wreck?
Never use a car accident scenario to prove a point- noted. Now every child is dressed, I zip the 4 year old’s coat and start to head for the door… “I have to go potty,” he says. Here’s where I lose it [insert crying child]. Imagine my excitement when I find out that he now requires a change of clothes because he didn’t make it to the bathroom in time- because, of course. More yelling. More crying.
We finally get to the car and my daughter (the one who can’t tell the difference between a coat and a sweatshirt) announces that she doesn’t have her backpack. She had her backpack the first time she got into the car, but she took it back inside when she went in to wipe off the sparkly pink lipstick her older siblings busted her for trying to wear to school. I rushed back into the house and couldn’t locate that pink princess backpack after two sweeps of the first and second floors. It’s at this point that I notice my neighbor has started his car and opened the garage door- if there’s one way to know we’re almost late, it’s the absence of the Cadillac across the street. I made a lovely scene slamming doors and yelling, causing my daughter to run into the house to retrieve her backpack. She sauntered out casually (I’m sensing a theme with this one) after finding it, and I clenched my teeth as we pulled out of the driveway.
At exactly 8:44, my three oldest hurried out of the car as I gave a forced smile to the genuinely happy (this guy LOVES mornings) drop-off attendant. As I pulled out of the school parking lot, I noticed that my mirrors were still adjusted for a 6 foot man with an extra long torso. Safety first, kids!