MORNINGS WITH CHILDREN, TAKE 1

As I've dug through these "THS MRS" clippings, I've been surprised to find that there are three similar, but different entries about the screams and whines and threats that seemed to be a necessary part of getting to school on time. And, no! It wasn't just me who was doing the screaming, whining and threatening. Considering that  school was half a block away, these mornings should have been a cake-walk, but they weren't. Not at all.  Here we go:   

"Many mothers I know become nearly catatonic as the end of May draws near. They huddle in corners of the supermarket whispering,'They're going to be home all day!' 'What am I going to do with them?' 'I love my kids, but 24 hours a day?' 'Any good summer camps around?'

In contrast, I'm rather looking forward to June. As a matter of fact, I'd look forward to chicken pox if it meant a calm morning at our house...

We've installed alarm clocks in each of the kid's rooms. They're small rooms, but the clocks have been carefully placed so the girls must get out of bed to turn them off. Unfortunately, this doesn't carry any guarantee against their collapsing on the floor in a deep sleep the moment the clocks stop buzzing. It does, however, get them out of their warm cozy nests.

At this point our oldest, the one who is obsessed with punctuality, is dressed, hair combed, and etc. within ten minutes. She then begins her daily countdown.

'Hurry up, you guys. You've only got fifty minutes.'

'How long is fifty minutes?' asks Kristi.

'Long enough to get ready for school,' I answer. 'Denise...stop that. You'll drive them crazy.'

'They've got 49 minutes now,' answers Denise.

'Kristi, Mickie--time to get dressed. Now!' I shout. 'I want to wear shorts today,' says Mickie.

'It's ten degrees below zero, Mickie. It's mid-February, and if you wear shorts you'll have a raging case of walking pneumonia before you get out of the back gate.'

'Mary had 'pa-monia' last year and she got a Teddy Bear and a doll and coloring books. I wouldn't care if I got 'pa-monia.'

'Well,' I answered. 'I'd care. Daddy would care, and you'd better believe Blue Cross and Blue Shield would care. Shorts are out!'

'Hurry up,' shouts Denise. 'You've only got forty minutes.'

'Breakfast is on. Come and get it.'

'Where's Kristi?' Mickie asks.

'Denise,' I ask, 'Would you please go get Kristi and tell her breakfast is ready?'

In just a moment, Denise returns to the breakfast/dining room. 'She was back in bed asleep. She's never gonna make it. We've only got half an hour.'

'Are we gonna be late?' Mickie asks.

'No, you've got plenty of time.'

Finally, Kristi arrives at the table.

'Hurry up and eat', Denise hisses. I'm not going to wait for you. You're just going to have to be late.'

'Am I gonna be late, Mama?' asks Kristi.

'No.'

Eventually everyone's hair and teeth are brushed, and faces washed. We have three minutes to kill.

'Oh, Mommie,' Mickie says. 'I'm supposed to take a quarter to school today.'

'Can I have a sack lunch today?' asks Kristi. 'I promised Robin I'd bring one and eat with her.'

'Oh,' shouts Denise. 'This is library day. Where's my book?'

'If it's Denise's library day, then it's mine, too. I forgot to read my book. Will you read my book to me?' pleads Mickie.

'I forgot to practice my alphabet letters,' cried Kristi.  'I was supposed to write a whole page of alphabet letters. Where's the paper?'

'Mom,' says Denise. 'I need to buy a new lunch ticket today. My other one's used up.'

'My tights have a rip in them. I've got to change,' shouts Kristi.

'I've gotta go to the bathroom,' Mickie wailed.

I really wish now I would have learned to live in the moment much sooner. But that's human nature. That's why we talk about time flying and wonder where it went and wishing we would have appreciated it more. But we don't. Because, most of the time we're just trying to survive and not kill anyone.