I just signed up my eldest for JK last week and it has me in a bit of a tizzy.
Not because I'm all, "OMG, my baby is going to school soon...he's getting so big...he growing up so fast!".
Okay, there's maybe a little bit of that.
But it's more like this....
HOW THE HELL DO ANY OF US GET OUR CHILDREN OUT THE DOOR IN TIME WITHOUT ALMOST HAVING A CORONARY??!!
Every Wednesday trying to get my kids out the door for my eldest's 10 am Sportball program is way too overwhelming sometimes.
It starts at TEN O'CLOCK you guys.
School will be starting at 8:30!!!
It goes something like this, starting at 8 am....
"Okay, Mummy's going to have a shower now. Be good, no fighting....okay?"
They totally ignore me and continue to jump on the bed, on each other and simultaneously from the bed onto the bean bag chair and on each other.
One inevitably ends up crying. I console, console, "there, there, there" (except who actually says "there, there?" when consoling? There, there....what? I don't get it.)
I jump into the shower with a mania unlike anything else. Screw the washing of the hair even though it's been 3 days. Screw shaving the legs. Hellooo? Yeah. There will be no shaving of the legs.
It's now 9 o'clock. Yes, it took me almost an hour to simply just get into the shower.
My boys need to now get dressed. My boys are in underwear. What else is new? Thankfully my 4 year can now dress himself although I usually have to pick out his clothes at his request and nag him about 37 times before he actually puts them on.
As for dressing my 2 year old? That's a whole entire circus on it's own. There are gymnastics, acrobats and contortionism that occurs while dressing my little one. Two year olds are tricky little buggers. And a lot stronger than they appear.
Now it's almost 9:30 and I have to make myself look halfway decent, brush their hair and their teeth.
It just so happens that I can do them all at the same time.
It's every Mother's forte. Multi-tasking.
Of-course this sounds easier than it is. Usually I have a toothbrush stuck in my mouth as I'm trying to cajole my boys into brushing their own, while brushing their hair and putting on mascara. Yes. Mascara is a necessity for these tired eyes of mine.
Can you picture all that happening at once?...Yes. I see you Mothers all nodding through the screen now.
There are snappy comments from me like, "Brush your teeth, not your lips!"
"Stop eating the toothpaste!"
"Sit on your bum! You're going to fall off the counter! Sit still!"
"You are so not done brushing your teeth mister!"
It never fails that as we're about to leave they suddenly decide that they're hungry. (and yes, I did feed my children already - usually twice by now)
And what they're hungry for is never something that's easy to grab...no, no. Of-course not.
They want cereal. With milk.
Toast. With peanut butter.
At this point I fear for SURE we're going to be late. I hate being late. I have serious anxiety issues with being late. And I realize that it's just a silly sports game for my kids. But did I mention it's a drop-off program? It's the ONE HOUR a week that I get to spend with my little guy, perusing the bookshelves at the Indigo just down the road. And dammit if I lose even one minute of that time.
As my anxiety levels rise my patience levels drop.
"We don't have time you guys! Here, have an apple! Or a banana! Granola bar? You love granola bars!" As I shove these food items in their little hands, one or both start whining and or crying.
At this point there really is no time and they're not even in their winter attire yet. I frantically dress them, repeating over and over again, "We're are going to be late! We're going to be sooo late!" (because they care) in between "Put your coat on" "Your shoes are on the wrong feet" "Don't forget your hat!" and usually ends in me not so quietly stating, "You guys! Come on! Co-operate with me here!"
Of-course as much as I hate being late I also hate rushing my kids. And the guilt sets in almost immediately.
And something like this happens like it did this morning....
"I'm sorry for snapping. I haven't had much patience with you guys this morning have I?"
Adrian simply gives me a kiss. Then Finley following suit puckers up and puts his head on my shoulder as I'm putting his shoes on.
"Thank you. I needed that." And the guilt sinks deeper.
Off we go out the door, back to brusqueness, ushering, "Hurry to the truck!"
I secure them in their seats, turn on the truck and as the music comes on Adrian yells out, "Ya! Rumour Has It!" My spirits are buoyed once again by my child who loves Adele.
And then I remember.
That I forgot to put deodorant on.