Tuesday, April 12, 2011
I hate mornings
I've always considered myself a morning person. I'm like my dad in that way. And it turns out that Thing 1 and Thing 2 follow in our footsteps, because those little guys wake up in amazing moods 99% of the time. Most mornings, they don't even wake up groggy. They just seem to pop up excited and ready to play.
But that is the problem. They want to play. They are happy, sweet, and playful... and mommy is all business, trying to get ready for work and school.
It breaks my heart, because mornings are the most one-on-two time I get with them. Superman leaves for work at about 7:15, which means it's just me and my boys until it's time to take them to school. I want to just lay in bed and cuddle with them while they tell me about their dreams (which they always seem so excited to tell you about), or get down on the ground and play trains, or play endless scenarios of "doggy", but I can't because I'm racing the clock.
Over and over again, my meanest mommy moments (which are also the most disappointed in myself parenting moments) always happen in the morning, while trying to get them ready for school. At the time that my kids are perhaps at their sweetest and best, I turn into Momzilla.
They don't want to get dressed (because they want to stay in their pajamas and play) so I find myself physically restraining them to put their clothes on. They want to play, but I get angry when I walk in the living room and find that they've pushed the coffee table over to the front closet and are standing on it to get their Candy Land game off of the top shelf, spilling dozens of other games in the process. No matter how many times I promise myself I won't lose my tempter, I invariably end up yelling at some-Thing in the morning for something. And I hate myself for it.
Some mornings I give in to the desire to just be mommy with them and enjoy their morning mood. Like this morning. I had just gotten out of the shower, when I heard Thing 2's soft whispering. He was sitting in mommy and daddy's bed, next to Thing 1 (who was still sleeping) and saying "Time to get up brother." Within minutes, both were giggling and laughing under my covers. So, I abandoned the urge to use the time to blow dry my hair and put on my makeup, and I hopped in bed next to them. We played tickle monster. Thing 2 played puppy. Thing 1 and I took turns giving puppy commands. We gave lots of sweet kisses. It was heaven.
But then at some point, I thought "Ugh, we are going to be so late." So I got up and got back to getting ready. The rest of the morning included a Thing 2 not wanting to get dressed fit. A Thing 1 not wanting the breakfast Superman had set out for them. And me walking into the coffee table incident described above after I finished blow drying my hair.
Our utopic morning in bed was long forgotten as my frustration and irritation grew.
I don't know what the solution is. Some people say "wake them up earlier so you don't feel so rushed" However... 1. when you wake them up, they wake up grumpy, 2. we'd have to put them to bed earlier, and I already feel like I barely get any time with them in the evening.
I need a different job. I need to be a free-lance something or other, working from home. Or a professor, where I could set my teaching time for afternoons. Something where I didn't have to push my happy children out of bed and into the arms of others at 8:30 am every morning.
Sometimes I really miss Superman being a stay at home dad. The boys could stay in their pajamas as long as they wanted! Often, I'd come home for lunch and the three of them would still be in their pajamas with disheveled hair and in the happiest of moods.