A Mom's Morning Mayhem

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Every morning, the alarm on my husband's phone starts to go off at 7:00AM and a minute later, my own 7:00 AM alarm goes off. Our phones must be a minute apart. I sigh as I roll over to turn it off.
My husband's is still going.

Once my husband gets into the bathroom, going to the bathroom will have to wait for another fifteen minutes, so I roll out of bed and head to the bathroom to relieve myself, wash my hands, and then wake the kids up, telling them that if they don't get up and go now, they'll have to hold their bladder until later.


As I try to sneak down the stairs to start the kid's breakfast, I hear little feet lazily shuffle to the bathroom. Sometimes there is an argument over who goes first, but usually there isn't. After I descend the first small flight, my youngest stands at the top and cries for me to come back; he wants me to give him a piggy back ride down the stairs. I groan and say, "Can't you walk down by yourself?" He cries some more and shakes his head. I turn around and walk down another step which ignites another scream from him. I give up and climb that step again, holding my arms out for him to jump. It's only four stairs to the top of that flight, so I know he'll make it. He shakes his head "no" and points to the step beneath him. I really should tell him to use his words, but I know that it's better to just sit down and let him climb on my shoulders, otherwise the whole morning will consist of meltdowns.

That's usually how my mornings start. Sometimes I make it all the way down the stairs before my four-year-old notices I’m gone. I don't even have to ask anymore what everyone wants. It's usually the same; the oldest wants pancakes, the middle child wants toast with Nutella, and the youngest gets what I give him. To save time, I make a large batch of pancakes during the weekend and freeze the rest that we don't eat so I can microwave it throughout the week.

Everything usually goes well until it's time for the kids to sit down and eat. We have a very specific seating arrangement... No one sits next to each other because when they are together, the kids either play or fight instead of eating. 

I really should get up much earlier to prepare things because this has only gotten worse. Generally, I would give the kids their food in the dining room and then go to the kitchen to pack lunches and load the dishwasher. This was the plan that always worked last year, but now, I have to sit at the dining room table to make sure they are eating. 

My oldest was diagnosed with ADHD last year. He's very social and when he hasn't taken his medicine, he doesn't follow directions. So, even when I'm sitting at the table with my kids, observing them eat, I am still constantly reminding them that they need to keep eating. Eventually, crazy mommy comes out, you know, the one who's voice is high pitched and words are jumbled because she's so frustrated, she can't speak correctly.



I don't mean for her to come out. It's like once I became a mother, I suddenly became like Dr. Jeckle and Mr. Hyde. I start out the morning tired, but sweet, then it's like after the tenth time of saying, "Leave your sister alone! Stop teasing your brother!" I turn into the evil witch that I play as when I'm playing with my kids... Although it's no longer funny, it's serious. My voice is raised and just when I think that I'm going to completely lose my mind, my husband swoops in from the bathroom, all showered and clean, like Mr. Darcy climbing out of the lake at his home in Pemberly and tells the kids, "Listen to your mother." And guess what! They listen to him. His voice isn't booming or particularly deep, but it contains some type authority that my voice somehow lacks. 

Then, like magic, my kids suddenly know what to do with the food placed in front of them. They know how to put their uniforms on and how to brush their teeth. They even know how to put on their socks and shoes. I'm convinced that my husband is the Great and Powerful Oz. You do what he says! 

Once he leaves for work, however, things fall apart all over again. The kids are either yelling at each other or they're playing together nicely, but they aren't listening to me when I say that it's time to grab book bags and head out the door. I shouldn't be surprised that the kids are tardy again for the twentieth time since school started a couple of months ago, but I walk outside and say with disbelief, "I can't believe we're late, again. Please get into the car. Hey! Get in the car, please. GET IN THE CAR!" It's really just the darndest thing.

I think I read somewhere once, that kids behave the worst with their moms. Something about them feeling comfortable with them. I'm glad that I'm someone that they trust and feel comfortable with, but every once in a while, I would also be glad for no morning mayhem.

Does anyone else have similar mornings? Ugh!