It is often advised to wake up before your children to enjoy a moment of tranquility and prepare for the day ahead. However, unless I’m willing to rise at an unholy hour—say, 5:14 a.m.—that quiet time remains a distant dream. The allure of extra sleep far outweighs the fleeting solitude that is certain to be disrupted by my children, who seem to possess an innate “she’s-awake radar.” The moment I stir, they sense it and immediately begin their demands. At that early hour, I’m simply not ready to face their needs.
So, I sleep in as long as possible. When they finally awaken, it’s never a gentle process. Typically, it begins with a poke to my eyelid (thank you for that), a kick in the back (if you’re going to sneak into my bed, at least do it gracefully), or an all-out scream (for the sake of sleep, just give me 10 more minutes!). My morning wake-up call is anything but subtle; it’s a loud and chaotic “GET OUT OF BED, MOM! WE’RE AWAKE, AND WE NEED THINGS!”
The emphasis on “things” is crucial.
“Okay, okay,” I reply, “let me just brush my te… no, Mom! My SOCK! It’s not right, and I need you to fix it!”
“Alright, just let me take a showe… MOM! Where is my SHIRT?! Is it clean? Where is my shirt?!”
Forget the shower, let me splash some water on my fa… “MOMMY!!! My show is NOT working, and I neeed lunch.”
At this point, I realize they mean breakfast, but never mind. “Let me just find my yoga pa… MOM! The baby just dumped cereal all over the floor, and the dog is eating it! Hurry up, Mom!”
And so it continues. The demands spiral on until I finally scream, “STOP IT!!! EVERYONE JUST STOPPPP IT!!! Stop whining about your sock. Stop insisting we’re going to be late. STOP SPILLING THINGS AND… what is that smell? Seriously? Did you have to poop RIGHT AFTER I JUST BUNDLED YOU ALL UP AND 30 SECONDS BEFORE WE NEED TO LEAVE? EVERYONE! JUST STOP!!”
“But, Mom…”
“WHAT?!”
“My sock?”
“I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR SOCK! Either deal with it or find a new pair.”
At this point, tears flow, insults fly, and I’m left wondering why our mornings always descend into chaos. A lecture about morning expectations ensues as we venture to the bus stop, followed by a quick, cold goodbye kiss.
And then, the inevitable guilt sets in as the bus pulls away. This gut-wrenching sensation—bus stop guilt—is all too familiar. My eyes scream “I love you, and I’m sorry!” while my mind races with the question: does he know that? He must, right?
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In summary, mornings in motherhood are often a whirlwind of chaos filled with demands and unexpected surprises. Despite the challenges, these moments, though frantic, are part of the beautiful mess of parenting.