We've been fighting about our breakfast routine for months. i wake up in anxiety and i drop them off in this huge, frenzied rage.
I told the kids at 4 years old, we were able to wake up, get dressed, clean our rooms, eat breakfast, homeschool, practice piano all before getting to school on time.
Now they are 7 and 9 and we are dawdling in our rooms till 7.15, the kitchen is a mess, i am yelling reminders of unmade beds and lights still on. i drop them off in a rage and my day is ruined and of course they are unanimously late for school. This is of course after i wake up at 6 am, do quiet time and meditate for 30 minutes. All the serenity is effectively drained by 8.15am.
So we drew up a schedule, and we bought 2 Star wars alarm clocks. One that went off when they needed to leave their rooms. One that went off when they needed to clean their plates.
Part of it now is that the kid wake up, they read in bed, they play, they make their own breakfast, i make them clean up -- i insist that over my dead body are they leaving dirty dishes on the counter because I AM NOT THE NANNY!
But these days i am trying something between Love and Logic and mindfulness based stress reduction. I am trying to let go of the fact that they might go to school hungry and late. i am trying to decide what i can control, i.e. getting into the car at a certain time. i am taking responsibility for my own schedule and time management. i am letting go of my cognitive distortions that the whole morning routine rests on me, that i am the only one keeping time in the whole family, that i am the "bad guy", the only one that cares that the kids miss the first 15 minutes of school.
Between letting go of the shame and making my rage the issue, we've been having a good couple of days. One day, these calm, leisurely mornings show up in our school weeks, the kids are up, nally and i are reading to the tunes of celtic music at the breakfast table, Aidan gets in a little practice time.
We drive to school, giggling about putting bets on the exact minute we drive to the school curb. The person who is right gets to pick the candy for the weekend.
Somewhere between me letting go of needing to control, the shame of being a parent of children who are perpetually late for school, somewhere between choosing to control what i can control -- we have peace.
And it is nothing short of a miracle.
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