Lately, my mornings have taken on a darker tone—think horror movie vibes. Picture this: I roll over to confront a ghostly figure looming beside me. Initially, it resembles something straight out of a horror flick, but it’s just my middle child, a once-adorable and snuggly 9-year-old.
This eerie apparition sometimes emits groans and other times stomps around, lamenting the injustices of life: it’s too early, the alarm clock is cruel, and mornings are the worst! I get it; mornings can feel like a slap in the face. I’m not much better, feeling like a sluggish sloth—one that’s had a bit too much caffeine. That’s why I attempt to tackle the morning chaos the night before, preparing uniforms, backpacks, and lunches in advance.
However, with three kids in the house, my plans for smooth mornings often crumble. My once-sweet daughter has been pushing the limits. Just last week, I witnessed a physical altercation between her and her younger sister. I had barely opened my eyes when the youngest unknowingly broke a newly minted rule: standing in the bathroom doorway while the older sibling is inside is now a no-go. This innocent act led to a swift kick to the leg, courtesy of my 9-year-old, who, I must emphasize, genuinely has a good heart.
Bleary-eyed and bewildered, I sat on the toilet, unable to intervene as chaos erupted. My youngest retaliated with tears, leading me to make a hasty retreat from the bathroom, closing the door behind me. Of course, the cries intensified as my daughter stormed out, and I tried to escape, knowing I was ill-equipped for such a confrontation at that hour. But she was relentless, and I eventually let my frustration show.
In that moment, I felt the need to assert myself, giving her a full lecture that had all the charm of a dragon’s breath. She was furious, just as I was. As I reached for my coffee, she snatched my phone and edited a picture of her and her sisters, removing herself from the image and setting it as my wallpaper. The message was clear: my sweet daughter had left the building, and I was now a mother of two.
Later, she asked to borrow my phone again after school, and surprisingly reverted the picture back. We shared a laugh at how ridiculous our morning had been. But the very next day, it was déjà vu, with her targeting her dad this time.
In an attempt to improve her mood, we tried sending her to bed earlier, which helped a bit, but the rude awakenings continued. Then, it all clicked when she called me excitedly into her room, proclaiming, “Mom! Smell my armpit!” I leaned in and was hit with an odor reminiscent of a kebab stand gone wrong.
So, I’ve decided that I need a long vacation—maybe a decade in Hawaii sounds just about right. Who’s in?
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In summary, parenting through the tween years is a wild ride filled with unexpected challenges but also moments of laughter and connection. Embrace the chaos and remember that you’re not alone in this journey.