Absent Minded Professor Syndrome

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Despite the daily rituals and routines, my son is a driving force, rebelling against regularity. At his tender age of eight years old, he pretty much lives the same day on repeat, as most children do. Routine, routine routine! He has the same homework every day, reading, math and spelling. It is all logged into his agenda book daily, which needs to be signed by a parent. We have the same morning and nightly routines that one would expect in any household with children. Pretty standard stuff right?  One would think so.

It could be viciously snowing out, freezing cold temperatures in the dead of winter, when my son charges off of the bus after full day at school. There is only one problem. “Where’s your coat?”

We sit down to do homework, part of the aforementioned routine, and sort through the contents of his backpack. There is just one problem. “Where are your books?”

We are getting ready to leave the house, all six of our family members waiting by the door to leave. There is just one problem. “Where are your shoes?”

I suppose its more than just “one” problem, but every time I am always sincerely surprised. I honestly just cannot believe that he hasn’t mastered the routine of his life by now. I should mention that he receives great grades in school and his reading is well above his grade level. He is no doubt a very intelligent boy. Intelligent but dumb!

I am at my wits end and losing patients . . .

TGIF – Hectic Morning?

I woke up late today! You know the feeling. Your laying in your warm bed, the weight of the comforters securely resting upon you, the room is dark, leaving you guessing what time it is. When you finally give in to fluttering your eyes open and stretching your legs out, that wonderful feeling of blood rushing from your pinky toes to your fingertips, while you curve your back off the mattress, immediately followed by the relaxing release. You contemplate rolling over for just a few minutes more, it must be so early, you think to yourself.  That’s exactly when my responsible six year old daughter came in my room, with her new fuzzy robe tied tightly over her pajamas, “Mom, I think its late. Don’t we have to get ready for school?”

What?!! What time is it?!!!  Shit! Its late, my son has less than twenty minutes to catch a bus and the girls and I have only forty minutes to compromise on reasonable outfits! I glance out the window and it looks as if we have been inserted into someone’s snow globe.  A thin blanket of untouched snow covers the ground, while a whirlwind of tiny white flakes dance around in the sky. There is no way I want to have to drive kids to school today! They must catch the bus!!!

I practically throw a bowl of cereal at my son, while chanting at him to HURRY! While he consumes spoonfuls of flakes, I am kneeled under the table getting his socks and shoes on, there is no time to waste.  After swooping his bowl away, rush him through brushing his teeth and hair, getting on his coat, hat and gloves and running him out to the bus stop – WE MADE IT, just in the nick of time.  Returning back into the house, I have just under a half our to get the two girls ready, which would be ample time for any other child, I’m sure. However these girls will drive me crazy. I will have to give ultimatums before we “agree” on a suitable outfit for school. They would prefer to wear their white dress shoes from Easter, blue tights, red and green tutu with an orange sweater.  I insist that they look like Rainbow Brite. They inform me mismatching is cool! Duh! Have I mentioned its snowing out?   “Go put on leggings, boots and a sweater.” They look at me wide eyed. “Please” I add for good measure.  Nothing. They just stand there. “Go!” I snap sternly. We don’t have much time left before the bus comes. “NOW!” I need to holler out before they turn on their heals and change their ridiculous outfits.  My little one is in nursery school twice a week, which is not today! Thank the heavens. Although, she’s easier to comply.

We made the bus! Their teeth were brushed, hair was done, and dressed for school in adorable and practical outfits.  Its a Friday miracle!! These two are in Kindergarten and 1st grade! I know I’m in for it!  I have tried planning out clothes the night before and have rewarded them for being easygoing. I have removed all “crazy” clothes, not to temp  them and have given in to them, so they can just get it out of their system – Nothing works!

Am I alone here? Does anyone’s children believe they are attending a red carpet event, when they have to leave for school?  Has anyone else’s children have no rational thinking when considering the weather?  Anyway, I am going to sip my coffee and think about the moments of when I was in bed, blissfully unaware of the time.  TGIF!!!

I Blinked . . .

I blinked. . .

When I opened my eyes I was responsible for four precious human beings. As they sit all in a row, they look like an image of a life cycle you would find in a magazine, infant, baby, toddler and preschooler.  One charming little boy followed by the three beautiful, graceful little girls adorned in pink with large bows atop of their silky hair.  During this time I was on my feet all hours of the night and desperately trying to keep up throughout the day.  I grew weary, filled with exhaustion, until my eyes felt so heavy, I blinked . . .

When I opened my eyes the eldest two children were standing tall, with their sacks slung on their backs, waving their small hands bye bye as they lift their foot on the step of the long, yellow painted bus. The two smaller girls were now running through my legs wildly, refusing naps, unable to be tamed.  Feeling overwhelmed, I threw my hands up in the air, exhaled all of my frustrations and I blinked. . .

When I opened my eyes I was rushing through the morning routine, preparing lunches and snacks, tying shoelaces and packing library books.  Chauffeuring the children from football and dance, muscling through to get the homework done.  Some days its hard, feeling like a personal assistant to four people.  I can get lost in the minutes of life as the weeks and months roll by. I find myself pausing a moment when I see my son reading to his younger sister or my daughters eyes sparkle with excitement and belief as the holidays approach.  My eyes begin to sting a little and fill with tears of love, and as much I resist and refrain from wanting to, I hold out, taking in the wonderment of how special this life is, until I can’t fight the urge any longer, and I close my eyes.

I blink . . .