a morning report
In the dark of the night I rolled over and found myself startled out of a heavy sleep to find my 4 year old crept into bed just then. "Mommy I had a nightmare" said the little voice. Cut to me lifting my phone: 3:00 a.m. on the nose. Cut to me scooping her up and saying "There's way too much sleep left to be had." She asks if I will sleep with her for a "wittle" bit and I oblige only to find her not sleeping. We discuss dreaming of apple pie and I noted "If we all get good sleep, we can make an apple pie, but only if we get enough sleep." Now she obliges into dreamland.
Cut to me back in bed struggling to oblige myself back into dreamland. But... eventually... Zzzzzzz
The morning comes, like she always does. My alarm sounds first and I hit snooze 3 times due to the unscheduled programing at three a.m. The last time I see the time is 6:30 and realize I must skip my work out and head straight to the shower, but first water, gratitude, stretch. Shower, like always.
It's the normal prepping in the morning. Get dry and dressed and make way to the kitchen to do all of the things before waking the cherubs. Fill up the water bottles, prep breakfast only if I am sure they are going to eat it. (There have been too many changed minds in the mornings before where wasting my time, energy and food were triggered). What needs to be packed? Start my egg or oats, make a tea, lunches in lunchboxes, can I do anything else for myself before getting the minions? ... the drill...
I've set my intentions for the day, but the wake up is always the unknown.
First Stella: I enter, "good morning" I say as I open the blinds gingerly like the birds in Cinderella. I was surprisingly greeted with the sweetest "good morning, mommy" in lieu of "I'm still tiiiiiired". I remind her of what we need to do and realize it probably won't happen like that. Room number 2: "Good morning" says the kind, mom voice opening these blinds and turning off the sound machine. I sit on the bed side; sometimes she wants to snuggle, sometimes she wants to get dressed immediately, and sometimes, like today she wants to hide under the covers and not be touched. I remind her of what needs to be done and head downstairs to finish the unfinished.
Ana calls for help. I congratulate her on another dry pull up. She does her business and I gather her clothes, my clothes, Stella's clothes, and Ana who wants to be carried with her lovey and blankie downstairs. Onward. Wait, no! I caught Stella reading and we have a "no-reading-until-you-are-completely-ready-for-school policy" which she currently was breaking. Go back and forth on what we agreed upon, why it's important that we start getting ready, kindly ask her to stop, tell her I don't have it in me for an argument. The other drill...
We make it downstairs.
They (hopefully) eat while I do 56 other things while continually nagging them to eat their food, or get dressed. An argument ensues; this time it's Ana not wanting to look at Stella's neon PJ pants, but Stella wanting to face her legs in a certain way towards Ana. Yes. This is real life. Now they start their harmonious back and forths. I manage to yell meaningless threats from the other room. "One more outburst from anyone and both the bar stools are gone when you get home!" They shape up for a moment and then someone has their foot on the wrong seat. Goodbye bar stools.
Stella slinks off the bar stool as John attempts to coerce her into getting ready and not fixating on who did what at that point. Ana is still eating. Has school started yet? Probably. I look at the clock and yell out what time it is for everyone as if it means something to their psyche. Nope, just me raising my own anxiety levels.
John gets Ana ready and dressed. She brushes her teeth. Stella is on the toilet asking me what name I like better "Declan or Allen?" My only reply at this point is "I'll tell you in the car when you are ready." By this time it has to be 8:20. We live 5 minutes from school and it starts at 8:30. I quietly accept the fact that I will have to return home instead of going straight to my destination after drop off. At some point in the blurrrr, humans are all ready (I think...). Nope Ana decides to switch into gym shoes last minute and demand braids. Because there's always time for braids. I have no spine you guys. I have to either oblige for braids or deal with whining and not cooperating getting into the car-pretty much both losing scenarios.
I call out "backpack, lunch, soup, let's go."
It's 8:30. Sweet. Now a ball of anxiety and irritation... and this point mostly irritation.
There's no point in being anxious about being late - that's happened (again). The gates were still open among other families struggling to make the cut off. I tell them all of the reasons it's polite and important to try to be early or on time for school while Stella tries to convince me it doesn't matter. In the end, we both are right.
I text a friend at a traffic light "We left the house at 8 fucking 30. I quit."
Stell decides to recite her dream at length while pulling into the lot. We are greeted and instead of exiting the vehicle she stands up and HAS to finish the dream. I repeatedly say "That's nice honey you need to leave the car. You can tell me after school." Nope. The teacher gets Ana out and was calm and complimentary of them bringing their soups in while I'm clearly not in a good head space again. He pats me on the arm and reminds me "Hey, it's okay. On our end right now, it's okay." And then tells me about a mindfulness workshop hahaha. (Well, I am sort of interested in checking out another one!) I say my goodbyes and I-love-yous and leave again what is regrettably another morning I want to re-do. This one didn't include yelling (thankfully), but most mornings seem painfully similar in getting to point B.
I've tried everything in my toolbox; I've asked Stella to sleep in her clothes (she refuses), I've moved up bed time, I've moved up wake time, I've implemented a no reading or playing policy, I've now taken away bar stools, I've made the effort to make their wake up the most peaceful experience .... and notably the only thing that works is accepting the fact that we are late or almost late every single day. if you'd like to explain the importance of punctuality to my 4 and 8 year old that makes a dent, feel free.
Though, the one thing that blesses me to tears is the fact that every morning we are greeted with a smile and a welcome right up to the car door. I could not have predicted that my children's teachers would not only be comforting them at their moments of frustration and anxiety, but also me, the parent in more instance than one. Every day I wake up and try my best and some mornings it doesn't feel like it cuts it, but like a lot of what they teach in Montessori school; it's all about the process.
At pick up, I received two minions in good spirits and I was in quite good spirits myself. And because I know Ana doesn't forget the things I tell her in the middle of the night I ask ~
"Who wants to make an apple pie?" Two strong Me's echoed in unison.
After they noticed their bar stools were missing (Look at that - I followed through on a threat, guys!) and Ana insisted on washing the floor we lit a Fall candle, played the tunes and we did just that.
It feels good when I'm not at an 11.
And I just might have the best two choppers in the land.
Cut to me back in bed struggling to oblige myself back into dreamland. But... eventually... Zzzzzzz
The morning comes, like she always does. My alarm sounds first and I hit snooze 3 times due to the unscheduled programing at three a.m. The last time I see the time is 6:30 and realize I must skip my work out and head straight to the shower, but first water, gratitude, stretch. Shower, like always.
It's the normal prepping in the morning. Get dry and dressed and make way to the kitchen to do all of the things before waking the cherubs. Fill up the water bottles, prep breakfast only if I am sure they are going to eat it. (There have been too many changed minds in the mornings before where wasting my time, energy and food were triggered). What needs to be packed? Start my egg or oats, make a tea, lunches in lunchboxes, can I do anything else for myself before getting the minions? ... the drill...
I've set my intentions for the day, but the wake up is always the unknown.
First Stella: I enter, "good morning" I say as I open the blinds gingerly like the birds in Cinderella. I was surprisingly greeted with the sweetest "good morning, mommy" in lieu of "I'm still tiiiiiired". I remind her of what we need to do and realize it probably won't happen like that. Room number 2: "Good morning" says the kind, mom voice opening these blinds and turning off the sound machine. I sit on the bed side; sometimes she wants to snuggle, sometimes she wants to get dressed immediately, and sometimes, like today she wants to hide under the covers and not be touched. I remind her of what needs to be done and head downstairs to finish the unfinished.
Ana calls for help. I congratulate her on another dry pull up. She does her business and I gather her clothes, my clothes, Stella's clothes, and Ana who wants to be carried with her lovey and blankie downstairs. Onward. Wait, no! I caught Stella reading and we have a "no-reading-until-you-are-completely-ready-for-school policy" which she currently was breaking. Go back and forth on what we agreed upon, why it's important that we start getting ready, kindly ask her to stop, tell her I don't have it in me for an argument. The other drill...
We make it downstairs.
They (hopefully) eat while I do 56 other things while continually nagging them to eat their food, or get dressed. An argument ensues; this time it's Ana not wanting to look at Stella's neon PJ pants, but Stella wanting to face her legs in a certain way towards Ana. Yes. This is real life. Now they start their harmonious back and forths. I manage to yell meaningless threats from the other room. "One more outburst from anyone and both the bar stools are gone when you get home!" They shape up for a moment and then someone has their foot on the wrong seat. Goodbye bar stools.
Stella slinks off the bar stool as John attempts to coerce her into getting ready and not fixating on who did what at that point. Ana is still eating. Has school started yet? Probably. I look at the clock and yell out what time it is for everyone as if it means something to their psyche. Nope, just me raising my own anxiety levels.
John gets Ana ready and dressed. She brushes her teeth. Stella is on the toilet asking me what name I like better "Declan or Allen?" My only reply at this point is "I'll tell you in the car when you are ready." By this time it has to be 8:20. We live 5 minutes from school and it starts at 8:30. I quietly accept the fact that I will have to return home instead of going straight to my destination after drop off. At some point in the blurrrr, humans are all ready (I think...). Nope Ana decides to switch into gym shoes last minute and demand braids. Because there's always time for braids. I have no spine you guys. I have to either oblige for braids or deal with whining and not cooperating getting into the car-pretty much both losing scenarios.
I call out "backpack, lunch, soup, let's go."
It's 8:30. Sweet. Now a ball of anxiety and irritation... and this point mostly irritation.
There's no point in being anxious about being late - that's happened (again). The gates were still open among other families struggling to make the cut off. I tell them all of the reasons it's polite and important to try to be early or on time for school while Stella tries to convince me it doesn't matter. In the end, we both are right.
I text a friend at a traffic light "We left the house at 8 fucking 30. I quit."
Stell decides to recite her dream at length while pulling into the lot. We are greeted and instead of exiting the vehicle she stands up and HAS to finish the dream. I repeatedly say "That's nice honey you need to leave the car. You can tell me after school." Nope. The teacher gets Ana out and was calm and complimentary of them bringing their soups in while I'm clearly not in a good head space again. He pats me on the arm and reminds me "Hey, it's okay. On our end right now, it's okay." And then tells me about a mindfulness workshop hahaha. (Well, I am sort of interested in checking out another one!) I say my goodbyes and I-love-yous and leave again what is regrettably another morning I want to re-do. This one didn't include yelling (thankfully), but most mornings seem painfully similar in getting to point B.
I've tried everything in my toolbox; I've asked Stella to sleep in her clothes (she refuses), I've moved up bed time, I've moved up wake time, I've implemented a no reading or playing policy, I've now taken away bar stools, I've made the effort to make their wake up the most peaceful experience .... and notably the only thing that works is accepting the fact that we are late or almost late every single day. if you'd like to explain the importance of punctuality to my 4 and 8 year old that makes a dent, feel free.
Though, the one thing that blesses me to tears is the fact that every morning we are greeted with a smile and a welcome right up to the car door. I could not have predicted that my children's teachers would not only be comforting them at their moments of frustration and anxiety, but also me, the parent in more instance than one. Every day I wake up and try my best and some mornings it doesn't feel like it cuts it, but like a lot of what they teach in Montessori school; it's all about the process.
At pick up, I received two minions in good spirits and I was in quite good spirits myself. And because I know Ana doesn't forget the things I tell her in the middle of the night I ask ~
"Who wants to make an apple pie?" Two strong Me's echoed in unison.
After they noticed their bar stools were missing (Look at that - I followed through on a threat, guys!) and Ana insisted on washing the floor we lit a Fall candle, played the tunes and we did just that.
It feels good when I'm not at an 11.
And I just might have the best two choppers in the land.
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