When they are hungry, they will come. This has become our modus operandi, on weekend mornings, as of late. When the littles were younger, we would each take a day of the weekend to sleep in. But now that our oldest can turn on the TV and pour a cup of milk and our youngest won't put peculiar things in his mouth, we lie in bed a little longer. We just hover in that bizarre alternate universe, where you are not fully asleep, because you can hear the littles chatting downstairs, but you are not fully awake, because you are pretty sure you can hear yourself snoring and your body has been doing a lot of involuntary twitching.
It has always boggled my mind that we have to wake our kids up, during the week, but, on the weekend, they are standing next to our bed, at 6:15 am. Two little figures, side by side, staring at me, while I squint to make out the time. Tell me that is not a f**king 6. I kiss each of their beautiful heads and gently murmur that it is still really early. Is that judgement I see in their eyes? Does the smallest one really have his hand on his hip? 'Can I go on my tablet?' Grunt that resembles yes. 'Can I go on my DS?' Nod that turns into a yawn. And, with that, the early birds leave the room. My oldest putting his arm around my youngest, for effect. I mean, it's sad, really. They get some much sought after screen time and then, when hunger drives them back upstairs, I come down and make them pancakes.
When the weekends come, I just don't want to rush. Weekday mornings are a total shit show. We try and "plan ahead". We try and be "proactive". It makes absolutely no difference. There are just too many variables in this equation.
Variable 1: The Clothing. I check the weather and lay out their clothes, the night before. But here is what I didn't plan for. My oldest doesn't want to wear a long sleeve shirt. He wants a short sleeve shirt. With a sweatshirt. Not a "pull over your head" sweatshirt but one with a zipper. My youngest was fine with the long sleeve shirt, but now, he also requires a sweatshirt, with a zipper. He also has a hole in his sock, which has already been removed and disregarded as unacceptable. Patience be with me.....
Variable 2: Breakfast (dun, dun, dun). Only quick options, during the week - toast, bagel, cereal. The same three options. Every....single...morning. The first time I ask what they want - radio silence. The second time - one answer, one blank stare. When I finally get their orders, and they are obviously totally different, someone has spilled their milk. FFS. I get the small patrons their requests, clean up the milk, and pack up all the lunches. Then I hear it - "More bagel!"
Variable 3: Getting Everyone to the Car. I am running behind and I have cream cheese on my blouse, but we have all made it to the front entrance. Is it snow pants or splash pants weather? Enter, my anxiety. Perfect timing, as usual. Will they be too hot in snow pants? Too cold, in splash pants? As I am standing, holding a pair in each hand, my youngest takes off, back into the house. He NEEDS to bring a stuffie. I try to grab him but I have pant hands. Cream cheese on my blouse and pant hands. I decide on the snow pants and pack the splash pants, just in case. I don't have time to quarrel with my anxiety, while dealing with the missing toddler/stuffie situation. Then finding the hats, mitts, my sanity....
So, I savor those weekend mornings. When we can lay in bed, just a little longer. Where can exist somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. When everyone can just be chill AF. When they are hungry, they will come.
Does Mommy need to lose her shit?
Not this week.
It has always boggled my mind that we have to wake our kids up, during the week, but, on the weekend, they are standing next to our bed, at 6:15 am. Two little figures, side by side, staring at me, while I squint to make out the time. Tell me that is not a f**king 6. I kiss each of their beautiful heads and gently murmur that it is still really early. Is that judgement I see in their eyes? Does the smallest one really have his hand on his hip? 'Can I go on my tablet?' Grunt that resembles yes. 'Can I go on my DS?' Nod that turns into a yawn. And, with that, the early birds leave the room. My oldest putting his arm around my youngest, for effect. I mean, it's sad, really. They get some much sought after screen time and then, when hunger drives them back upstairs, I come down and make them pancakes.
When the weekends come, I just don't want to rush. Weekday mornings are a total shit show. We try and "plan ahead". We try and be "proactive". It makes absolutely no difference. There are just too many variables in this equation.
Variable 1: The Clothing. I check the weather and lay out their clothes, the night before. But here is what I didn't plan for. My oldest doesn't want to wear a long sleeve shirt. He wants a short sleeve shirt. With a sweatshirt. Not a "pull over your head" sweatshirt but one with a zipper. My youngest was fine with the long sleeve shirt, but now, he also requires a sweatshirt, with a zipper. He also has a hole in his sock, which has already been removed and disregarded as unacceptable. Patience be with me.....
Variable 2: Breakfast (dun, dun, dun). Only quick options, during the week - toast, bagel, cereal. The same three options. Every....single...morning. The first time I ask what they want - radio silence. The second time - one answer, one blank stare. When I finally get their orders, and they are obviously totally different, someone has spilled their milk. FFS. I get the small patrons their requests, clean up the milk, and pack up all the lunches. Then I hear it - "More bagel!"
Variable 3: Getting Everyone to the Car. I am running behind and I have cream cheese on my blouse, but we have all made it to the front entrance. Is it snow pants or splash pants weather? Enter, my anxiety. Perfect timing, as usual. Will they be too hot in snow pants? Too cold, in splash pants? As I am standing, holding a pair in each hand, my youngest takes off, back into the house. He NEEDS to bring a stuffie. I try to grab him but I have pant hands. Cream cheese on my blouse and pant hands. I decide on the snow pants and pack the splash pants, just in case. I don't have time to quarrel with my anxiety, while dealing with the missing toddler/stuffie situation. Then finding the hats, mitts, my sanity....
So, I savor those weekend mornings. When we can lay in bed, just a little longer. Where can exist somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. When everyone can just be chill AF. When they are hungry, they will come.
Does Mommy need to lose her shit?
Not this week.
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