The Best Laid Plans…

photoI’m a planner. An organizer. A scheduler.

I still have a notebook from when I was in junior high, where I scheduled my morning getting-ready routine {e.g., 5:00am shower, 5:10am get dressed, 5:12am do hair.} Seriously.

I love binders. And structure. And routine.

And I love it when everything goes according to said routine.

Which sometimes makes “me as a mother” just downright hilarious.

Last week I shared with you my strategies for back-to-school routines.

Let me now share with you what the last 24 hours have actually looked like:

I left school yesterday, exhausted after the second day of teaching {really, it’s only been two days??}.  I picked the kids up early from daycare, as Abby had a 5pm dance class, and we needed our down time at home before class started.

Upon seeing me enter the classroom early, and interrupting his game with his friends, Liam loudly proclaimed he DIDN’T WANT TO GO HOME! Which is exactly what every mother wants to hear, and have all the daycare teachers hear, at the end of the workday, right?

Then Liam’s teacher asked me about his stalled potty-training progress. I explained how we are working on it, and all the things we have tried at home, and then the teacher suggested, “Do you ever read any parenting blogs?”

Crap. I really hope this just means that other mommy bloggers are as clueless as I am when it comes to actually getting a child to poop on the potty.

We arrived home a bit late, ran around getting Abby’s dance costume on, locating the tap shoes, not finding the ballet shoes, and rushed out the door to arrive at dance at 5pm. Only to find out that the class started at 5:30, not 5:00. I was glad we weren’t late, but now it meant entertaining my four-year-old for one-and-a-half hours at the dance studio.

And he was actually pretty good for most of the class, except for the time when he turned to me, out of the blue, and stated, “Mommy, I’m not poopy.” Which obviously means exactly the opposite. I think I learned that on a parenting blog.

We rushed back home for a late warm dinner bowl of cereal, and I put my crabby children to bed. My daughter, exhausted after two days of school and dance and new routines, turned up the sass, which got her in trouble with her dad, which led her to tell me she didn’t like daddy anymore.

I had great plans for after the kids were in bed: writing a well thought-out blog post for today, and reading and commenting on and sharing other great blog posts. I fell asleep watching Master Chef instead.

And then here’s how this morning went:

4:55 My alarm goes off, so I can have 20 minutes to myself: breathing, drinking coffee, and doing a few yoga stretches.

5:01 I’m downstairs, pouring my coffee, and I hear my son running around upstairs.

5:05 I’m trying to proceed with my morning quiet time, even though I hear footsteps and scuffling above.

5:06 Liam is in the family room with me, asking where his red car that he was playing with yesterday is. I tell him I don’t know.

5:07 Massive tantrum erupts over location of said car.

5:09 Car not yet located, I give up on morning quiet time and go upstairs to shower. My husband takes over tantrum duty.

5:30 Abby, woken up by her brother’s on-going tantrum, and therefore still crabby, comes into my room with a horribly mismatched outfit {not the one we’d picked out the night before}. My gentle suggestion to pick out different pants is met with yelling.

5:35 Abby returns to my room, with clothes that now match, but screaming, “DON’T LOOK AT ME!!!”

5:45 I get more frustrated as my other morning routine {listening to Morning Joe on MSNBC while I get ready in my room} is interrupted by my daughter playing with her dolls at a way-too-loud-for-before-6am volume.

5:46 My husband yells up to me that he is leaving for work. I am jealous.

6:00 I proceed downstairs to make my breakfast and put my lunch together. I then remember that when I pre-made all the lunches on Monday, I told myself I would need to remember to make more salads on Wednesday night, because we had run out of clean Tupperware containers and I couldn’t make a full week’s worth of lunches. I hadn’t remembered.

6:02 I begin to make my breakfast, my morning smoothie, and my lunch.

6:03 Fierce sibling argument breaks out over Liam taking Abby’s car to replace his car that has still not been located. I overhear words like “stupid,” “poopy-butt,” and “I wish I had a sister, not a brother!”

6:04 Argument escalates to hitting. Children are placed in timeouts.

6:05 I am now the “meanest mommy EVER.” I’m totally getting that on a mug.

6:06 Yelling, eye-rolling, crying, fighting. {Do I even need to add that it’s not just the kids at this point?}

6:09 Abby storms upstairs, “I NEED A DAY OFF!!!” Me too, babe.

6:20 I finally finish my breakfast.

6:30 Abby comes downstairs. We apologize to each other. She apologizes to her brother. We all hug and make up.

6:35 {5 minutes behind schedule} We are about to head out the door. “Liam, get your shoes on.”

6:36 Liam: “But Mommy, I poopy.” Fine… I’ll look up the damn potty-training blogs!!

6:50 {20 minutes behind schedule} Kids are buckled into the car.

6:51 Eureka! The missing red car is discovered in between the carseats!

6:57 Daycare drop-off. Liam throws himself on the floor in a boneless, kicking tantrum because he cannot bring the red car into his classroom, per daycare rules. I get kicked in the shins.

6:59 Children are settled into their classrooms, with promises from Mommy to wave at them as she drives away.

7:00 I’m in the quiet of my car. Breathe.

7:05 I’m stuck at the red light in the five-mile-long {okay, I’m exaggerating} back-up of traffic for a 3300-student high school with one main entrance.

7:06 I FORGOT TO WAVE AT THE KIDS!! Really? Again? I feel like crap.

7:08 I have now had two cycles of the red light to feel like crap. My kids were at the window watching their distracted, stressed-out mama drive away after a rough morning…

7:10 I’m in my classroom. I start grading the quizzes that didn’t get graded last night, even though I had brought them with me to dance class thinking I would get them done while Liam played quietly. I’m so silly.

7:12 I start preparing my lessons about ancient Greece and Rome. I meet with and reassure students stressing out over the demands of their first Advanced Placement class.

And thus begins the easy part of my day.

*****

It’s not my style to leave you with a rant, and no reflection.

There was good in the midst of the chaos: my daughter eventually telling me last night, “I know he’s a great dad…,” the apologies after the fights, and the fact that we all still managed to get to school fed, dressed, and on time. And we found the car!

I know that tonight, there are no kid activities. My husband will be home early from football practice. We will all sit down to dinner together. We will have time for baths and much-needed early bedtimes. My new dance class starts tonight and I will have restorative me time and exercise and connection with my fellow dancers.

Perhaps most importantly, I spent time this morning with fellow mothers at work, and heard that welcome, and much-needed, reassurance that I am not alone in dealing with crazy mornings, six-year-old sass, preschooler tantrums, and drawn-out potty-training.

The morning was a powerful reminder that the best laid plans often do go very astray.

It was a reminder to use my mantras:

Breathe.

It is what it is.

This too shall pass.

They are not their tantrums.

The house will soon be quiet.

A reminder to not get so caught up in the chaos and stress and anger and rush and frustration of a morning schedule not followed.

Because the craziness of the morning is soon forgotten as we move on to work and to school.

A reminder that tomorrow is another day.

Tomorrow is another chance. Not to get it “right,” but to breathe through it. To accept what is. To respond, not react. To make amends. To begin again at being the mother I want to be.

And, probably, to read more parenting blogs.

And to make sure that damn red car is in a highly visible location.

car

Sarah Rudell Beach
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