You would think that with only six weeks left of school, we (read: the children) would have the morning get-your-crap-ready-for-school routine down. To. The. Dot. Not the case. Ten minutes before bus stop ops* this morning, a child (I won’t point fingers at which one) whipped herself into a full frenzy over what to wear. Apparently, the outfit she envisioned in her mind did not exist in her closet or drawers. Oh, the horror!
Admittedly, this morning was not one of my proudest parenting moments. Rather than quell the frustration, I fueled the fire. How could a child who can’t close her drawers not have something to wear? I could have put together dozens of choices for her, but she was having none of it. None.
In the span of those 10 minutes, tears flowed and words of hatred swirled around and still linger in the air, long after the bus has pulled away from the curb. Could I have tapped into my compassion and handled it better? Without a doubt (insert beating-myself-up fists of guilt). Do I want more than anything to run into her classroom to hug it out? Sure do. Have we lapsed into complacency so close to the end of the school year? Yep.
*Sigh* Looks like it’s time to pull out a reminder of our morning and evening routine. After school, we’ll calmly chat about what went wrong this morning so it doesn’t happen again. Hopefully. And I’ll take an introspective look at what I could have done better so I can better diffuse future explosive situations. You would think that after nearly 11 years of parenting, I’d have the how-to-be-a-great-parent gig down. To. The. Dot. Not the case. But, that’s an entirely different conversation….
I’m not the only one, right? What do you do to make your mornings run smoothly? How do you (happily) coexist with your strong-willed child? Do dish below, please.
*as a military family, we use the abbreviation “ops” for a multitude of events, i.e., “time for dinner ops” means, “let’s get dinner started.”