A little over a year ago I wrote a post about trying to get out the door on time. You can read about it here. My experiences are no different from any mom out there. I don’t care how soft spoken, patient and organized you are, the act of leaving the house to get somewhere on time with children in tow is chaotic…. for all of us.
16 months later I’m still living the life of trying to get to places on time, not yelling, not leaving anyone and not wrecking my car as I pull out (which doesn’t include the swiping of a parking pole at the baseball field).
Last time it was a summertime post just trying to get to a dentist appointment. This time around it involves the early morning rush hour in our house of a working mom, a working dad, two school-aged kids and two toddlers (and a dog and cat who must be kept alive with food).
I snoozed past my 4:25 wake up call and felt like an absolute REBEL as I cozied up under my warm blanket choosing NOT to go for my daily jog…. and I liked it. 5:35 rolls around and I decide to start my day. T-minus one hour before I have to wake up the big boys to get ready for school. This ‘long’ time involves getting myself dressed and appropriately prepped for the work day. The husband is gone for his daily workout of weights and jogging and will return at the same time the school kids need to rise. At 5:47, exactly 12 minutes into MY time of getting dressed, I hear the angelic pitter patter of my 3 year old’s feet rounding the corner of the hallway into my bedroom. This little guy is always the first one up. He either graces me with his presence in the middle of my post-jog shower, while I’m getting dressed or at the latest point, when I’m in the kitchen making lunches. And I always meet him with a smile, kiss and a huge good morning hug all the while thinking to myself ‘Patience, patience…. I’m on the clock here kid, don’t you know?’
Thankfully, my boy’s a routine kind of kid and he happily requests his warm-milk and whatever cartoon he currently enjoys the most. Thank God for the DVR. I do make him wait until I’m through in my bathroom and he stands there staring at me just watching. Staring. Does any mom remember the last time they were in the bathroom ALONE? Right.
It’s now 6:12 (I took 37 minutes to get dressed and do my hair and makeup). I go into the kitchen to start my coffee, unload the dishwasher, make the boy his warm milk and turn on his cartoon. Then it’s time to make lunches for the family. Monday and Tuesday it’s only 4 lunches. Wednesday it is 6 of them. This will take me a minimum of 30 minutes to complete. Can I do this the night before? Sure. Do I want to at 9 pm when I’m finally done with the day’s work, my kids are in bed and I might be able to conversate with Daddo… no I don’t. At some point during my mad lunch-making, and dish unloading, Daddo comes home from his workout and we briefly say ‘hi, good morning.’ On mornings I’m feeling especially confident in my getting-out-the-door tasks so far, I may even go as far as to ask ‘How was your workout?’ But not often. On this particular morning I finish the lunches and decide it’s a crock pot dinner night so the dinner prep (although 8 hours away) begins.
It’s a simple frozen chicken breasts with pasta sauce and seasonings on low all day kind of recipe…. yes the ‘Busy Mom Easy Recipe’ google list I have on my phone. Meanwhile the oldest son, who is just like his youngest brother with enjoying the first rays of sunshine, walks in the kitchen. Fully dressed, I look past the turkey feather hair on the back of his head and tell him to feed the kitty. He points out it’s a new can that he can’t open on his own, so I stop what I’m doing and go onto the patio and feed the kitty her breakfast. Pet #1 fed and alive. I give my oldest boy my yet to be used coffee mug and tell him to fill it half full of water for the kitty’s bowl. Yes! Even hydrating the kitty! I’m on fire this morning!
Lunches are eventually taken care of and the third boy presents himself for the day fully dressed and teeth brushed. This small yet large display of self-sufficiency has greatly lightened our load in the mornings and I can only dream of the day when ALL my children can dress themselves and perform all the necessary bathroom duties on their own.
I FINALLY pour myself a cup of coffee and head to the toddlers’ bedroom while telling the 3 year old ‘It’s time to get dressed!’
While I’m carrying out this chore, I know that Daddo will prepare some sort of ‘breakfast’ for the boys according to our previously decided morning duty schedule (he opted out of changing the diaper and dressing the toddlers).
Like clockwork the routine-dependent red head and I enter their room simultaneously saying ‘Good Morning Cora Love’ to the only girl and only still-sleeping child in this house. Red picks out his clothes yanking several items from their hangers before deciding on the perfect set of shirt and shorts. Baby girl gets her diaper changed in the floor (sold the changing table FOR GOOD in June). Then I dress her in a outfit, spray her crazy bed head with water and clip her bangs to the side just in perfect time for Daddo to walk in and hand over her sippy cup of warm milk to enjoy. I remind Rhett it’s his job this week to feed our dog and he runs out of the room with a proud look of productivity and worth on his little face.
SUCCESS! Four kids up and fed, lunches packed, pets kept alive and it’s only 7:10… plenty of time to get out the door! Right.
15 minutes later, after pouring coffee in my travel cup, giving up on my breakfast and putting the box of cereal back into the pantry, telling each child 23 times to put their shoes on and kicking the dog to the patio AGAIN we’re finally walking out the door. Big boys are in the truck telling me ‘Bye’ out the window and the toddlers are conveniently loaded in the car via Daddo (he’s awesome I know). I proudly take a seat at the helm of my steering wheel just about to take in my deep breath of accomplishment when I look over at my passenger seat and realize my purse and lunch bag are still on the kitchen counter. Back toward the house I pass Daddo coming out and he informs me he locked the door…. unlock door using his keys, get my bag and get back in my car and start digging for MY keys. Where are they and WHY is the 3 year old repeatedly saying ‘Where’s Bucky?’ Keys aren’t in diaper bag, not in purse, I ask Daddo if he’s seen them as a neighbor pulls up in our driveway thinking it’s a nice time for a chat. I borrow his keys again and go look in the house to no avail, but remember to go grab ‘Bucky’ the white blanky out of the toddler bed to solve that issue. Back in my car I dig one more time finding my keys in the bottom of the diaper bag, hand Daddo’s keys to him, watch neighbor back out on to the street and quickly follow the same path. It is 7 minutes before I have to be at work yet today is the day the toddlers are going to Nonnie’s the opposite way of school. I slip on my sunglasses and drive.
‘I’ve still won,’ I’m thinking as I roll down the country road toward the sunrise. My little red is telling me the adventures he has planned with his grandpa today and baby girl is smiling out the window. I pull into their farm driveway with 2 minutes to spare. I’ve been awake 2 hours and 7 minutes, minus the normal extra hour on days I jog. I hop out of the car, open the door on the baby’s side and with an overwhelming feeling of defeat I realize she has no shoes on her feet. After all I have done in one jam-packed morning it doesn’t matter because my daughter is barefoot for a day at her grandparents. I’m the parent who forgot to put shoes on her kid’s feet.
She’s still smiling and gives me a snotty, slimy kiss on the lips as I hand her over to her Nonnie and wave ‘bye’ to her brother who’s running into the house. It’s all ok and we’re ok.
I arrive at my paying job, which I am very blessed and grateful to have, and I collapse in the chair behind my desk. One deep breath, now it’s time to start ‘work.’
My littles heading out the door at 7:25. This was obviously a ‘shoe’ day.
My school boys ready for the day! Success!
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