Let me tell you, I aim to be a calm and collected parent. I really do! My day starts before my kids even wake up. I rise early, meditate, and sip on a glass of lukewarm lemon water—something that’s supposed to cleanse my gut or enlighten my soul or whatever. I breathe deeply, glance at my never-ending to-do list, and think, “Today, I won’t yell at my little munchkins. I won’t rush them. I’ll be the picture of patience.” I’ve got this all figured out.
And then the kids wake up.
Suddenly, I adore their sleepy faces and cozy warmth. I could just nibble on their chubby cheeks! They’re irresistibly cute, with their wild bed hair and unique little smells. As they cuddle in, I wish they could stay this way forever, always loving me the most. Being a parent really is a magical experience.
But then, it’s time to start the day.
Cue the whining. They can’t decide what to have for breakfast. Their favorite clothes are mysteriously dirty. Every snack option is “gross,” and any lunch suggestions are met with dramatic meltdowns. Combing their hair, a daily ritual, seems to surprise them every single time. They stand there like they’ve been frozen in time, staring into the abyss. Shoes? What shoes? And suddenly, they can’t communicate without growling at each other like wild animals. The bus will arrive in five minutes, but I know it takes them a solid seven to get dressed. Homework? Gone. Toothbrushes? Missing. Their prized pet rock for show-and-tell? Poof! All hope is lost. Parenting can be a total nightmare.
So, the calm and composed mom I wanted to be? She disappears faster than my coffee on a Monday morning. I don’t even know who she was. I’m not loving, patient, or mindful. All I can think is, “Why are you moving slower than molasses in winter?!” I just want them to hurry up—faster than glaciers melting! I’m only focused on my desperate need for that first sip of coffee before I dive into work. If they miss the bus, my morning is toast. And with that frantic mindset, I turn into the mom shouting, “Hurry up!” And wouldn’t you know it? That frantic energy somehow gets them moving. My craziness becomes my secret weapon for efficiency.
To the calm, peaceful mothers who manage to arrive on time without raising their voices—I admire you. I really do! But I just can’t wrap my head around how you do it. You must be some kind of parenting wizards.
For the rest of us—the moms who try every method but still find ourselves swearing before breakfast, those of us who can’t seem to be on time no matter how early we start, who love our kids fiercely but still feel like squeezing them too tightly while they take their sweet time putting on a shirt—you’re my tribe. We’re the moms who shout “Hurry up!” and “Put your shoes on already!” You are my people.
So, no, I probably won’t stop telling my kids to hurry. Because, let’s be honest, if I do, we’d never make it anywhere!
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In summary, parenting is a beautiful and chaotic journey. While I try to embody patience and calmness, the reality is that sometimes I need to channel my inner crazy to get my kids moving. It’s all part of the ride, and I know I’m not alone in this struggle!