Morning Madness

I have never been a morning person and in my ideal world I would neither be spoken to nor utter a single word for at least an hour after rising.  It should come as no great surprise therefore, that I find the mornings in my house with my husband and four children enormously challenging. I have noticed that my morning grumpiness has reached a new level in recent times so I have taken the time to reflect on why.  Once I paid attention to all that was going on, or 'lived in the moment' as Ekhart Tolle would say - the answers were all around me.

I was woken as usual by the sounds of Tubs and Charlotte getting ready for their obscenely early round of tennis at 6.15am.  There was no hope of falling asleep again so I got up and started unpacking the dishwasher and making some space in our tiny kitchen to prepare three lunch boxes.  While doing so, I made myself some breakfast which I ate between tasks.  As I was completing the lunches, Tubs and Charlotte arrived home and came straight into the kitchen to make breakfast.  I marvelled at Tubs sitting peacefully at the table, eating his breakfast and drinking his coffee, staring out the window and contemplating his day before heading to the bathroom.  Throughout this process he remained undisturbed by children and entirely unaffected by the level of organization required in the ensuing hour.   He even had the audacity to ask me what I had planned for the day.  I was so stunned by the question that I couldn't conjure up an adequate reply and instead mumbled something about housework and washing, which was met with a confused look and words to the effect 'but didn't you do that the other day?' Seriously! 

Charlotte meanwhile, had taken Josie out of her cot and delivered her to me in the kitchen, still wearing her sleeping bag and half asleep.  Charlotte assured me that Josie was already awake but I was not convinced.  I stopped what I was doing in order to remove Josie from the bag, and have our obligatory morning hug.  Josie then wouldn't let me put her down and I was forced to deposit her screaming on the floor so I could get on with the tasks at hand.  This set in motion a rolling tantrum spanning over the course of an hour at varying intervals.  When I failed to indulge her tears, she would storm out of the kitchen crying for Charlotte, Abby or Lulu and I breathed a sigh of relief as I knew they are far more accommodating at times like this.  After all, they have a vested interested in enabling me to prepare their breakfast and lunch for the day!

I eventually left the kitchen, one hour, three lunch boxes and five breakfasts later.  The table, bench and sink were covered in dirty dishes and as I turned my back on them I couldn't help but think sarcastically to myself 'I wonder what I will do today'.  I made a quick check to see where each of the children were up to in their morning routines, made a few requests along the lines of getting dressed and packing bags before making my way to the bathroom.  I was greeted by a soaking wet bathmat, dirty clothes on the floor and a sink laden with shaving scum.  Was Tubs trying to give me things to do out of sympathy for my otherwise boring day?

Now that meals were sorted and the children were turning their minds to their day the ritual bombardment of questions began.  Lulu started, first through the toilet door and later through the shower screen.  She had chosen that moment to show me a book she had made and asked me to help her read it.  I calmly congratulated Lulu on making a book and told her I would love to read it with her tonight, but right now she needed to get dressed.  I had to say this twice before she finally left the bathroom.  Abby then decided that this was a good time to ask me to sign her diary.  I pointed out that I was dripping wet and would attend to her in a minute.  I walked down the hall, stepping over a large mound of crumbs that weren't there minutes earlier and made note of another job for today.  Charlotte then followed me into my room and asked me if I had read her class blog and could I log on so she could read it?  I gave her the option of waiting a moment so I could get dressed, or offered to do it naked - knowing full well she would be horrified at the thought. 

While getting dressed, I noticed Lulu walk in and out of her room several times - to observe herself in the mirror.  She then walked past my door carrying a jewellery box, twice.  At one point I stuck my head into the hall and saw her playing in the toy room at the opposite end of the house.  On each sighting I reminded her to get dressed, yet strangely it seemed a great surprise to her that was what she was supposed to be doing.

We eventually left the house in time and made it to school in tact, albeit with Charlotte wearing sneakers instead of school shoes for some reason.  I am frequently left with the feeling that the children are just as pleased to be walking away from me as I am from them at this point; but thankfully all is forgiven at the end of the day when I collect them.  That is, until the question, 'what is for afternoon tea...?' is fired at me!

It never ceases to amaze me that my children always need to talk to me at exactly the same time, oblivious to the fact that I am already talking to someone else.  They are 'bottomless pits', seeking food at all hours of the day and night - but won't willingly eat what is ultimately offered up.  They constantly invade my mind, my space, and my plate of food at meal times.  It is as though they each have an 'access all areas pass', which they deem to be valid 24 hours a day, seven days a week!  We unwittingly sign up for this when we become parents; it is one of those things that no one warns you about.

I well remember doing the same thing to my parents.  A closed bedroom or bathroom door was an obvious invitation to barge in, and the reason for doing so was never of any great importance in the scheme of things.  Children are egocentric creatures, inhabiting their minds in an enviously self-centred way and with a highly proprietorial notion of their parents.  Thanks to the cycle of life and the karmic forces of the universe, everything we did to our parents we have done unto us at some point.  I am not looking forward to my children's teenage years!  In the mean time I will continue to survive each morning with deep breaths, comforted by my favourite mantra that 'this too shall pass'.