needs: surviving mornings.
It’s a new school year and we were reinventing things for better mornings. I am laughing at myself as I type this. I’d seen mums, dads and carers at drop off and thought “yeah they have their shit sorted” while my shit seems to be all over my face. That morning was different, it was going so well… my smugness was even making me vomit in my mouth. My beloved and I were equal parts congratulating ourselves and braced for imminent disaster.
Up at 5.30. Showered, green smoothie, dressed and took my vitamins. Self-care shitty city. I had read something on increased protein and made a quiche from scratch for the lunchbox. I cut the brownie I made the night before and prepared the strawberries and tomatoes. I added the pretzels and sultanas and marvelled at the balanced, waste free, preservative free lunch box. My dudes’ new alarms woke them and I went to help out with some dressing. Mr 7, was dressed and ready for the park. Ms 9 whose meds were recently changed presented as hung over and anxious. I re-calibrated. Dressed her, packed her bag with her and made her bed. Today we were returning a care bear to a teacher and a book so I put them in a separate bag.
We went out to the family room. The boys were at the park- they are kicking the ball every morning for a week. 10 kicks a day. I know right. This shit is unbelievable. Ms 9 and I sat down with maths. She got her grin back somewhere in a timetable challenge. Coffee in hand, we hit the pen pal letter due later that week so she could start something a little ahead, instead of a lot behind. I’m covering all bases so I dipped in the kitchen for oats, fruit and yoghurt for their breakfast, did the water bottles, coffee refill and the boys are back. Breakfast was smashed out while everyone was kind of glowy. My boy starts the teeth, hair dance while I nudge her forward. She wanted to get to school early to get a part in assembly. I fill out permission slips for concerts and adjust for the early departure. I help her do meds, hair, teeth, and we are getting there. In the car, we sing, we call my beloved on his way to work, and spread our joy. Writing each step now, it’s so clear we were poised for disaster.
We get to school, we park and are on time to get a part in the assembly. We get out of the car. I have school bags. I don’t have the second bag with the care bear. And that’s it.
Storm clouds appear. Why did I put it in another bag? Why is it like that? And then the tears, and the screaming and pushing, her brother trying to help her and getting a punch for it. She needs a minute to find herself and she is barely breathing through the howling. We don’t make it to assembly in time and she has missed her part. She is unhinged now and missing all of her parts. I am beginning to think we should just chuck it in, the new plan, the peaceful family life. I should take her home to doona island.
Her teacher takes her hand in that super power way. I try and convey a life debt in a tearful glance. My eyes follow her school dress in a row of other school dresses. I am adrift. What will the school day hold for her? My feet feel like concrete. I am leaving her. As I get to the car, my tears free fall and I call my beloved. I hear him sigh then hold his breath.
means: surviving mornings
- Pre-do. Do whatever you can the day/night before. Uniforms, bags and lunches and whatever kamikaze hijacking project/costume/permission slip.
- Do less. Clothes, Food, Cuddles and a Dance is all that matters to me.
- Teeth & Hair compulsory but often out of reach. If it is problematic for your dudes, just do it. My girl doesn’t have the motor skills for this in the morning, and banishing the shouting around this made mornings better, for everyone.
- Reset. When she melts down, I stop. This is what the morning is about. If I stop the momentum, she settles, and if she doesn’t I can cope with it.
- Give them space. If she melts down between the car and the classroom, I move her to privacy. I am teaching her to find herself in private. She will need to do this the rest of her life.
- Reset me. I have a song, a coffee, a cake, a walk, a book or a friend. A go to pick me up that helps me reset before work, rest or play. These moments are not the story of my day, my week and won’t be the story of my year.
- Plan with my beloved. He cannot always take that call but we have a back-up time. Those mornings are just mine to hold and somehow, I can let go of them easier if I do it with him.
- Talk about it. That night, during bath time or bedtime we go over the good things about how she recovered and got on with her day, and help her work out what could have been done differently.