I am not a morning person. I used to be, but then I had kids; three of them, to be exact. Now, my morning brain functions at about the level of a cold bowl of leftover oatmeal, and, as the adult in charge of getting the kids off to school in the morning, that’s not a very useful brain to have. Trying to coordinate breakfast, clothing, morning chores, backpacks, and all the other things that need to get done in order to get out the door on time is ridiculously exhausting, especially when the children are about as useful as a litter of newborn kittens. Super adorable to look at, but they spend most of their time climbing on each other and walking into walls.
I wrote the following a while back after a particularly torturous morning that ultimately left me wondering how I would ever be able to show my face at the boys’ school again:
Morning school drop-offs are chaotic at the best of times, and today was no exception. The boys’ school has a drop off area where parents can pull up along side the school, deposit their kids on the sidewalk, and drive away while one of the teachers then walks the younger kids into the school yard.
We were running a bit behind today, so I was in full on Crazy Mom mode when we pulled up to the school. I jumped out of the van and frantically began piling all the boys’ belongings onto the sidewalk. Mittens, jackets, bags, children; one giant blur of hurried insanity. In my haste, I stood up from hugging Isaac and turned to the teacher next to me and said, “I love you,” then turned back to Isaac and told him to have a good day. It wasn’t until I had driven halfway down the street that I realized what I had done.
PARENTING: If you’re not confused, you’re not doing it right!