Epic battles! Dramatic face-offs. A race against time to achieve the impossible and a noble quest.
No, it’s not Dan Brown’s latest novel. It’s my house in the morning where we are engaged in an epic battle with my son R. with daily face-offs, a race against time to get him to school on time and a noble quest: - an impossible dream - to get everyone moving while still maintaining our serenity.
You can stop laughing now.
We have been trying to achieve this since kindergarten when R’s kindergarten told us gently that she’d like to see our son sitting in his seat when school started rather than racing for the doorway. It’s been downhill ever since.
Now that my son is 12, you would think that he could get himself up in the morning,, get himself dressed and make his own breakfast and lunch but you would be wrong.
First comes the wake-up call. We give our sons a five-minute warning and then call or them to wake up. My younger son is groggy but willing. Not so my older son, who burrows deeper into his blankets until I finally give up in frustration, grab his feet, and put them on the ground. Talk about enabling.
Next, R. usually tries to curl up for a few more zzs on the couch so we grab his blankets again, roust him from the couch and start trying to get him dressed. This is where we practice our broken tape-recorder routine. Get a clean shirt, get a clean shirt, get a clean shirt. Put on some pants, put on some pants, put on some pants. Put on your socks, socks, socks.
And so it goes. We push him through breakfast where he inevitably asks for what we don’t have. Me: “Do you want toast or cereal?” R: “Waffles.”
And then there’s lunch. “Do you want ham or turkey?” “Peanut butter and honey.” Ahhhhhhh.
This morning, R. informed me that his friend’s mom makes his lunch every day. That might be true, I replied, but your friend does all his own laundry. Score one for Mom!
The show-down this morning came because of R.’s very poor, extremely disrespectful attitude in the morning and his screaming at me. In fairness, he might have been reacting to my raising my voice several times but that’s no excuse! This kind of escalation is how wars are started.
Everything had cooled down by the time R. got back from school and had transformed from demon child back to my sweet boy. We agreed that we would list all his morning jobs and he would sign a contract agreeing to do them. Then we would offer him a quarter a day if he succeeds and would take away video games if he melts down.
We’re also going to buy another alarm clock. The last one died after being dropped on the floor one too many times but maybe the next one will be sturdier.
All I want is a truce in our epic battle. I want fewer face-downs and more face time in the morning. I have a new impossible dream: a child who peacefully gets himself ready while I meditate or read the paper or something. All that I’m asking is we give peace a chance.
Image from sodahead.com
