Thursday, January 29, 2015
It’s 7:43 am. T-minus 32 minutes before we must depart for school. Son is half-dressed, sitting on the ground, checking the Weather App on the iPad before making his final decision in his clothing choice. This recently developed habit stems from the history of him asking me each day: “MOOOOOM? Is it going to be hot or cold today?” And each day I would struggle with an answer because the answer is really…neither. It will be neither hot nor cold. In fact, it will rarely ever be “hot” or “cold” while you live in this Beach City. Oh yes, people will refer to themselves being “cold” while wearing a North Face ski jacket for drop off when it’s 58 degrees outside, but Son, I cannot stress to you enough that that is not cold. And hot? I’m sure the rest of the country would love for anything over 78 degrees to be “so hot.” Also-you continually refuse to wear pants so the question of “cold or hot” seems like a true waste of breath since no matter the answer, we both know, hell, we ALL know, you’re just going to put on some damn shorts and be done with it so JUST BE DONE WITH IT ALREADY, MMKAY? Hence-and I will credit Husband for this-Son was introduced to the Weather App, so he can micromanage his own outfit and-BONUS!-that of his sister, exclaiming most mornings in a smug, all-knowing voice: “Sister…you’re going to wear that? You know it’s only going to be 67 degrees today.” And let’s be honest, that’s assuming that Daughter actually has clothes on because most mornings, at t-minus 32 minutes before departure, she can be found completely naked, hanging from the frame of her bunk bed practicing her ninja moves, while yelling in quite a shrill voice to anyone who DARE suggest that, in fact, clothing is not optional at school, that SHE WILL IN A MINUTE.
Just as I’ve accepted Son will only wear pants as a dead last resort, I’ve learned that Daughter requires a full 30 minute time period to get dressed and since I’m kinda scared of her, I just accept it and let her engage in the Stages of Getting Dressed. One: Strip naked. Two: Stay naked as long as possible. Three: Reluctantly pick out clothes. Four: Stay naked. Five: Pee. Six: Put underwear on head and ask Mom if she likes her outfit. Seven: Get dressed because Mom just threatened to take away her Saturday Wii time. (The day my Wii currency goes is the day she goes to school naked.)
But getting dressed is only half the battle. Turns out, shoes are also a necessity for attendance of school, but each day this, apparently, is a shocking surprise to the Children who need at least 15 to 167 reminders to put their shoes on. It starts with a gentle “Hey, guys? Let’s get our shoes on.” And ends with a PUT YOUR (silent in head screaming MOTHERFUCKING) SHOES ON PLEASE! Followed by the inevitable “Why are you yelling at us?” whine. Because YOU SEEM TO LIKE IT. And then somehow, day after day, we all shuffle out of the house at 8:15, fully clothed with shoes on, back packs full of homework and lunch boxes and get in the car where we then proceed with the standard Let’s Fight All The Way To School, which usually begins with the infamous Stop Touching Me and ends with the Mom Mantra: Thank You, Jesus, For School.
This Morning Routine has been brought to you by the Gelato Family. I am guessing that each of your households has it’s own…special morning routines. And while our own can make me completely mad at times, I know I’ll miss the chaos when it’s gone. So I just breath deeply and remind myself that one day, Son will just…put his shoes on. And Daughter will just…get dressed.
I take that back.
I’m totally screwed with That One.