Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Help Me Help You Get To School In The Morning Without Having a Nervous Breakdown (AKA, Just Let It Go)

There are times when I am entirely overwhelmed by parenting.  The small tasks just to put me over the edge. Just ask me to tie your shoe and next thing you know, I’m throwing it. (Not necessarily at the children, but somewhere hovering near their vicinity.) Ask me for Cheddar Bunnies 16 times as you walk out the door and I’m cursing you out under my breath. 

To alleviate my insanity, I bought this photo by Kotama Bouabane from 20x200 and hung it in the mud room. 

Just let it go.

Originally, the picture hung above my toilet bowl. You know, for those of us constipated folks.

But I moved it in hopes of getting myself to chill out during mudroom madness. When the kids are both talking to me at once. There’s Elke jabbering hysterically wanting cookies for breakfast and making sure I have all of her requests met for the walk to school. Bottle (yes, she still takes one), check. Blankie, check. Paci, check. Snack, check. Then there’s Jake asking me what he should write in his journal that day while I’m tying shoes and making sure his packpack is packed up. And then his sneakers aren’t on because he’s drifted into Jakeland—reading, or putting a Star Wars puzzle together, or just flipping through the calendar to see whose birthday party is coming up next. 

"Jake, focus," I say. "Put your sneakers on, buddy." 

"Who won the game last night mom?"

"I don't know, buddy. Put your sneakers on."

"I want ice cream!"

"No ice cream for breakfast. Here, take Pirate Booty."

"No fair, why does she get Pirate Booty for breakfast?"

"She already ate fruit, eggs, cereal. Put on your sneakers."

"I can't get my shoe on, it hurts."

"Elke, don't open the door and walk outside without me. You can't walk out by yourself."

"Okay, Mama. I sit right here," she says, as she opens the door.

"Mom, do you think you can get me those yellow laces for my new Nikes?"

"Jake put your shoes on." I turn to Elke who is out the door. "Elke, do not go outside."

"I just going to do chalk, Mama."

"Can you say the magic word, Mom?"


"The magic word."

Here's when I pause. "What's the magic word?" I say.

He smiles. "Please."

This is when my HEAD SPINS and I turn into Linda Blair. This is also when I laugh. Why? Because he's absolutely right. Just. Let. It. Go.

Does this sound familiar to anyone else? Mornings have to be as equally as crazy for everyone else.

Just. Let. It. Go.

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