As the new school year begins, I find myself feeling remarkably organized—at least initially. Now, three weeks into managing both a kindergartner and a preschooler, I’ve developed a routine that rivals even the most complex operations. While I’ve reduced our morning chaos to 41 steps, the process is still a whirlwind. Below, I’ll share my system, so you can learn from my experience.
My Morning Routine in 41 Steps
- Wake up. My preschooler, Max, greets the day with exuberant shouts, while my kindergartner, Lily, needs a bit more rest. I rush in like a rescue team, lifting Max from his crib and hoping Lily will stay asleep for a while longer.
- Unfortunate awakening. Just as I think I’ve succeeded, Lily wakes up, grumpy and cranky.
- Breakfast battle. It seems like a monumental task to get these two to eat. Their pace resembles a slow-motion hunger strike rather than a breakfast routine.
- Time anxiety. As I watch the clock, I start checking my phone repeatedly. I lay out Lily’s outfit and suggest she dress herself.
- Back to square one. Unable to get her to cooperate, I end up dressing her myself while she giggles, pretending she’s a baby.
- Wet mishap. Max accidentally spills water on the floor, leaving me with soaked socks. While cleaning up breakfast, I manage to douse my blouse with dishwater and decide it’s time for a change.
- Acceptance. With no clean socks or blouses available, I come to terms with my damp state.
- Whirlwind of activity. In the next frantic minutes, I attempt to get myself dressed, teeth brushed, and bags packed, all while struggling to get the kids into their shoes and jackets.
- Compromises. One of my children brushes their teeth, and I tell myself that’s good enough for today—I’ll address it later.
- Paperwork chaos. There are countless forms to sign for school, many requiring checks or my time. I randomly sign three, toss them in Lily’s backpack, and worry if I’ve missed anything crucial.
- Gentle reminder. I ask Lily to put on her shoes.
- 12 to 36. The lengthy process of getting shoes on ensues.
- Losing patience. Frustration peaks, and I shout, “Put on your shoes!” as I wrestle with Lily’s feet, who is now pretending to be a dinosaur. My shoulder bag slides down, hitting me in the head.
- Finally heading out. We manage to leave the house, and I lock the door behind us. My partner, Jake, takes Max with him.
- Backtracking. We realize we need a raincoat, so we head back inside. I consider changing into rain boots but decide against it.
- Regret. My shoes are now ruined from the rain.
- Drop-off success. I leave Lily at school, kiss her goodbye, and relish the thought of six hours of freedom. So what if I’m damp and hoarse? The morning chaos has concluded, and I’ve survived.
Further Reading
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Conclusion
In summary, starting the school year organized is an ambitious goal that often leads to unexpected challenges. My routine, though chaotic, is a testament to the resilience and adaptability required in parenting.