Tonight is a school night. True, it is a “work night” then for husband and I, but we’re business owners so there’s no real “not a work night.” Well, Except for Christmas Eve and Super Bowl Sunday Eve. But that’s not really where I’m heading now. It’s a school night, which means tomorrow is a school morning, which means I’m heading into battle.
A few years ago, we came up with a plan. We would wake, make coffee and walk the dogs. This would leave us a span of fifteen minutes to enjoy our elixir. Fortified by one cup of coffee, with second cup in hand, my husband would go upstairs, and wake the cherubim. He would see that they were dressed in their school uniforms, and descending the stairs as chipper as the Von Trapp children- after they started wearing those dorky flocked-velvet drape/clothes. I would remain downstairs and get breakfast ready. I would prepare the most important meal of the day for my two strapping young lads, and see they had healthy snacks and lunches in hand. We would gently tousle their hair, receive their adoration, and send them on their merry way down the street. We would breathlessly chuckle, and then prepare for our work days.
Now, please, be seated if you are not already. What I am about to say will stun you, STUN you. Our plan has not yielded the anticipated results.
I’ll readily admit that the first major flaw in the plan was me. The very reason my husband was volunteering for hazard/wake up duty was because of my track record. I used to get them out of bed, attempt to get them dressed, and then drag them out of bed again a second time when they crawled back in. A better parent would understand they were sleepy little imps who needed to be gently coaxed. Whatever. I tried to remain calm, but it was a toss up of, “do my kids hear me screech, or do I let them see me toss back a shot of vodka at 7 a.m.?”
You can imagine just how bad it got to cause my husband to voluntarily and unilaterally assume Operation Rise & Shine. His suggestion to have me downstairs making breakfast was a calculated way to get me as far as I could be from their bedrooms during the start of the chaos. If he could get them up and dressed, everything else was optional. We wouldn’t want them to leave without breakfast, but they COULDN’T leave naked. Well played, husband. But they are not quite so easy to contain, are they?
I am SO grateful to have a husband who tries everything within his power and healthy blood pressure range to help. Instead of remaining the calm one, he has been sucked in. When he travels, I miss his support, love, and tactical skills. We are a good partnership in that regard. Deep down, I know he is in awe of my tooth-brushing-enforcement skills.
Each morning is mayhem, and I don’t know why. I should save myself the hassle, record myself and put it on IPods for them to listen to: Eat your food eat your food leave the dog alone leave both dogs alone tie your shoes brush your teeth why aren’t your shoes tied yet you didn’t even touch your food have some of your milk ok now brush your teeth NO I’m not signing a permission slip now leave the dog ALONE get away from your brother tie your shoes-no-not together get your backpack get your backpack get your backpack I said stop hitting your brother goodbye I love you good luck on your math test stop hitting your brother no you can’t have $10 to buy lunch just go and remember focus for your math test I love you bye.
And so, as I reflect on his trip tomorrow which will take him away through week’s end, I can only sigh. I will be flying solo, like Snoopy vs. two Red Barons. I will assure myself that if I can handle the 30-40 minutes of anarchy, I can get into work, grab a cup of coffee and enjoy the blissful white noise of blaring office air conditioning. Wish me luck. I’m going in.