Is it Mondays or Just Us?
Wake up with first alarm, lay a-bed running through what lays ahead. Greet each other. Or rather, stand in Boys doorway saying Good Morning Cutie, while he stares at the ipad that he turned on who knows when this morning. Go to washroom, try again. Honey you need to put that down, get ready for school. Slowly he lowers it, eyes slanting to keep contact until the last possible second. “I’m turning it off mUm”.
I give some direction (put on shirt, socks, did you go to the washroom yet this morning?) and head to kitchen. Heat coffee, pop in toast, pull out lunch box.
He comes to table, honey did you forget the socks and shirt? Oh ya, and I need to go to the bathroom. You nod, yep.
Finally mostly dressed, and sitting for breakfast, mUm, I have a sick feeling tummy. And my throat hurts, and do you have anything important to do today? Can I stay home? I break the news to him that he has to go to school, I have to go to work. But I realllllly don’t feel well. I play along. Take his temperature. Perfectly normal what ever that is. Please eat your breakfast. Here, have some orange juice and an extra vitamin.
Things go smoothly for all of 5 minutes. Breakfast is eaten. Teeth are brushed. Then we fuss over wearing long pants or shorts. Buddy, it is not warm out. I wish it was still summer too. Come on, try a pair of the nice new pants I bought you for school! Those look good, super light. He busts a move. Smooth that moment over. Then the screen looms, is it really worth arguing over when there are only 20 minutes til school, and my coffee has gone cold? Ok fine, lay in My bed, play around on your tablet for a bit while I go burn my hand on my coffee (see previous post from this morning…)
Time to go. O look, you hit your lip with your gadget cause you couldn’t just put it down, had to keep staring at it while you walk it to your bedroom to plug in so we can do it all over again tomorrow? And now your lip is bleeding and you don’t have your shoes on. We ice the lip. We get the shoes on. We hold the elevator for the neighbours. We all ride down together, smiling knowing smiles of camaraderie over our children’s hatted heads. We get outside, realize I forgot to put a note in your backpack about who is meeting you after school. Back up we go, hold the elevator for me, I run in to grab a notebook and a pen. Mumble something about the damn tablet and realize it is me, I do get to be in charge. Time to readjust the boundaries, time to set limits, get habits back in order. It is only week 3 of the new school year. After a summer of relative freedom, it takes a while for routines to settle in, for us to accept them.
Write note, remind child of after school plan, walk to fence just in time for bell to go. He will have to run. Except now he is in tears, and as you hug him you fight a desire to just carry him back inside and let him have another day off. Except this will be day 5 at home. He needs to go to school. He must. I am being selfish, or a good mum. I can’t decide. But it is quarter after 9 and he hasn’t called home. And I can’t just go call him home, although I know he would like that. And yet here I sit, stomach tense for guilt that the morning didn’t go smoothly. Not a crisis, just a crappy monday, right?
pee ess… that coffee? cold again