Take this morning for example ...
Both my husband and I work full time, so, we have to be up and out the door Monday to Friday. We have a car but I don't drive (long, LONG story that I'll save for another blog ...) so I walk the boys to their destinations each morning and then walk to work. My husband also walks to work and he has to be at work by 7:30 am (he, bless him, makes the "school lunch" which helps a lot in the morning), so really, it's up to me to get the boys ready and fed and out the door all by 8:30 am ... it's challenging ...
Thursdays and Fridays are particularly difficult ... its the end of the week. We're all tired and pretty much done with the routine of the week. I have a seven year old and a two year old. Challenging.
My seven year old, Jackie Chan (to protect my children's confidentiality I've decided to call my older son, Jackie Chan and my younger son, Bruce Lee ... which is probably completely pointless because the only people reading my blog - I'm sure - are people who know me AND my kids and are fully aware of their names ... but I imagine you understand why I'm trying to have some kind of protection in place) at any rate, Jackie Chan has taken to sleeping in in the morning. I'm not sure why ... he gets about 12 hours of sleep a night without the sleeping in and I can't imagine why he would need more than that (we've not ruled out that this could be related to some kind of medical condition and are looking into it).
So this morning we had reached a point where we had 30 minutes before we needed to leave the house and Jackie Chan is still asleep. I decided I had to wake him up because he needs a shower because I can't remember when he last bathed and I feel like the worst parent EVER. I'm in his room gently trying to wake him so he's not all grumpy when he gets up ... and my efforts are wasted. He groans and grunts and complains about having to get up and wants to stay in bed. He's seven not seventeen. I'm confused.
I immediately get frustrated and order him to get out of bed, get showered, get dressed and get downstairs to eat his breakfast which is already on the table getting cold. Jackie Chan is not impressed with the "to do list" I've just thrown his way and is angry and stomps around his room.
Simultaneously my two year old, Bruce Lee, is screaming and shouting about needing to brush his teeth so I stomp to the bathroom, grab his toothbrush and prepare it with a pea size amount of non-toxic toothpaste and thrust it in his direction and order him to brush his teeth - i get that most parents don't leave the tooth brushing to the two year old, but cut me some slack - and turn my attention back to Jackie Chan who is still in his PJ's.
(As an aside, Bruce Lee does NOT just brush his teeth, he decides to brush his "potty" and then brush his teeth and then his potty again and then his teeth and I choose to ignore this horrific germ sharing display because bigger picture, we need to get out of the house ...)
The next 30 minutes are filled with me yelling at the kids, shouting orders, fighting back tears, dealing with more tears and temper tantrums ... until we emerge from the house ready to face the day.
I'm angry. Jackie Chan is angry. Bruce Lee is tired and crying (and probably getting sick because of all the potty germ sharing). But we are on our way.
It's not until I'm standing at the school watching Jackie Chan swing happily from the round "spinny" things on the play structure in the school yard, smiling away at me (because he knows how proud I am that he's able to preform this amazingly athletic demonstration) that I find myself choking back tears.
Choking back tears of guilt and regret because I spent the entire morning yelling at him. I suddenly am aware that he is tired. And he has had a long week. And he maybe didn't want to get up and out the door any more than I did. And instead of trying to understand I YELLED at him. I try to imagine what my morning would have been like if the moment I opened my eyes someone started ordering me about and yelling at me to get in the shower. And I have to fight back the giant sobs welling up in my chest. And I'm sorry.
I can't tell him all this because we're in the school yard and there are lots of kids around. So, instead, I clap at his new found confidence on the "spinny" things and give him a big smile and a big thumbs up and make myself a promise that I will somehow make up for the nightmare I was this morning by doing something extra special with him this weekend.
And I say goodbye and have a great day baby ... and I turn and walk away and silently pray that the next time I'm faced with challenges I will do better. And I try to ignore the emotions tugging on my heartstrings ... because, well, that's what parents have to do ...
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