Bath-Robe & Slippers

My last post was about using a cleaning schedule. I noted in that post, that sometimes you get behind on things. Some days you miss tasks. Some weeks you miss tasks. And, some months are filled with idle days of recuperation.

That last one is about where I’m at these past few weeks. 

I am actually really great at giving advice on how to plan, organize, adjust, etc. But, I am also inherently lazy. So, sometimes I do not follow through with my own advice. The good thing I have going for me is that I eventually get out of my funk and get back on track. I consider that to be a win. After all, I truly do love to plan, organize, adjust, etc.

Now, let’s address the reason why I am writing today.

I drop my kids off for school in my bath robe and slippers.

To make matters worse, I have my pajamas (read tank top and athletic shorts) underneath said robe. I am not usually wearing a bra. My hair is unkempt, just thrown up into a messy bun or clip. And, I do not brush my teeth. 

If I were to get into a fender bender on the way to or from school drop-off,…knock on wood…I would run, guys. I would wave a sad, apologetic wave, and speed that minivan the hell out of there. Because, the state in which I drop the kids off for school is perhaps my worst look (maybe aside from freshman year photo day in H.S.). 

My “staying-at-home” didn’t start this way. In fact, in those days, I would have judged the crap out of me. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t be the mom in a robe, disheveled and scrambling to get the kids around. Why couldn’t she just put herself together? Why didn’t her vanity, or sense of self for goodness sake, motivate her to at least wash her face or brush her hair? And, a robe? It’s truly just fulfilling a stereotype.

The truth is, some of you are probably still judging me. I get it. From the outside in, I judge me too. I see plenty of stay-at-home moms who do the drop-off, who look fabulous. They stand tall and chit-chat with passers-by, while waving big at other parents. They are a far cry from me, who ducks my head and tries to hide behind anything and everything, as to not make eye-contact with anyone.

How I got here was a slow progression. It took me almost four years to perfect, in fact. And, not to brag, but I am killin’ it.

When I had one or two children to get around in the morning, I was managing to also spend some time on myself. Henry would be the one in his pajamas. He was a baby; it was expected. Some days I would choose to hit snooze one more time and forfeit make-up. And, some days, I would hit snooze two more times, and forfeit my makeup and hair. 

This may be a good time to remind you all that I hate mornings. I am not a morning person. I think my family members and particularly my husband thought that my disdain for mornings was just a juvenile phase in my life; that one of these days, I would grow-up and become a part of the morning society. Well, not so much. I am just a few days into 33, and well it’s looking like mornings are still the worst. Sorry, Husband.

In summation, when you hate mornings, making excuses to sleep a bit more is easy peasy. 

This year, everything changed. Yes, before now, I wouldn’t exactly want to see anyone at school drop-off. I certainly wasn’t ready for a close-up. But, it was manageable – not totally embarrassing. Perhaps everyone would think I was on my way to the gym or something. Then, all three of the kids were in school. 

Early in the year, I quickly realized that I had to get up significantly earlier to get us all around. In our house, it’s not as easy as waking them up, telling them to get dressed, and then going to get myself ready. My kids…they need constant supervision. It sucks to say that. But, it’s true. 

One time, I told Olive to brush her teeth and went to get ready. I checked on her 15 minutes later and she was dancing, half-naked in her room, and had still not brushed her stinkin’ teeth. Ugh. Unfortunately, my kids are only motivated by the continual barking of their mother. I mean, I am pretty damn good at it, if I say so myself.

So, leaving their side to go do other things for any extended period of time is out of the question. If I do anything, it has to be within ear-shot, so I can continue to sing my greatest hits: 

•  "Get ready!" 
• "We are gonna be late!
• "Fine. If you don't get around, you won't have time for breakfast."
• "If you want to be late, that's fine with me. It's up to you."
• "Leave each other alone!"
• "Don't look at each other; get dressed in separate rooms!"
• "Where are your shoes?"
• "Go find your shoes!"

While typing this, I had the epiphany to just record myself saying these things. I could get up and play it on a loop throughout the house. Hmmmm...perhaps this could streamline things…

Anyway, these hectic mornings of supervision taught me two things. I would either have to get up super early, before waking my kids, to get around for drop-off. Or, if I tried to get ready at the same time as my kids, I was rushed and cranky, and the mornings were miserable.

To make matters worse, after I do drop-off, I generally come home to sit down at my computer. I pay bills, put things on our calendars, send cards, buy gifts, work on my classes, or write blogs. So, I’d be sitting at the computer, by myself, with makeup on, after having rushed around, yelling at my kids, just to come back home. In those moments, I would reflect on how I’m doing as a parent and the time I had after drop-off to get around. Why did I rush to do it in such a short period of time, when I could just do it afterward, when I was alone?

I had decided that I wasn’t going to worry about my hair or makeup before school anymore.

And, as long as I was staying in the car the whole time…I decided not to brush my teeth either. The thing with that is… I don’t like the way my coffee tastes after I brush my teeth. So, I drink my coffee beforehand. Really, this is just a PSA; keep back at least three feet until after I’ve had my coffee (or am forced to actually go somewhere). 

Then, for Christmas, I asked for a robe and slippers. Letting the dogs out without them was mighty cold. Thankfully, I got both this year! I live in love them. 

But, little did my husband or father and step-mother know, they were enabling me. The robe and slippers became the first things I slipped on in the morning. And, I realized that I didn’t even have to put on a bra! I should…but, I don’t have to…so…ya know…I don’t.

And, so, the evolution was complete. Well, I think it is. I don’t know how it could get any worse, really. So, I think it is complete.

I think it is important for me to talk about this. It’s not because I feel the need to justify my actions. Although, I think it is good for some people to read about how I got this way. Ha ha. But, also, I think it is important for people to know that you choose your battles. I decided, I like the mornings a whole lot more when I don’t stress myself out about getting around. I focus on the kids, and on making coffee while they eat breakfast, and I worry about myself after 8 am. After drop-off, I take a deep breath and remember that I am also a person separate from being a mom. But, until that finish-line of drop-off, I am all-in with the morning routine.

Yes – many, many other parents manage to get all of their kids (more than three sometimes!) to school on time, while looking great, and presentable, and like they have it all together. And, they actually might. And, so many parents manage to get everyone in their house around for drop-off on their way to work – or get their kids to the bus stop. I applaud them. I really do. And, for the record, I was once one of them…

But, mornings were an absolute sh*t show at our house. And, for us, for our situation, I was always angry and lecturing, and it was no way to start the day – for any of us. So, I said, something’s gotta give. I can get up earlier, or worry less about the way I look. And, I chose to hit snooze two more times and say, to heck with my looks! (Secretly praying that I don’t actually run into anyone!)

That’s how I became the stay-at-home mom, who drops her kids off for school in a robe and slippers.

Sorry, kids! Maybe when you listen better, I will be more “put-together,” as to not embarrass you. Someday…

One of those Mornings...

Remember how I mentioned in my last post that sometimes I have bad days? And, sometimes the kids have bad days? Well, I just sat down with my first cup of coffee and it seems as though an entire “bad day” has already taken place. 

I want to preface the morning with a description of my mood. 

I have been fighting a stomach bug of some sort for a while now. I think I may have gotten whatever tummy stuff is going around; but, my body is doing an okay job of fighting it. I’m avoiding the vomiting, but got all the other fun stuff a sickness brings. I am also particularly moody this week, if ya know what I mean (today is day 3). And, I have been having a hard time adjusting to a regular sleep schedule again; this means that I hit snooze a total of….six times this morning. Overall, I’m a freaking peach. 

The kids were fairly cooperative at least. They got out of bed and got dressed at a decent pace. Olive did wander around, sleepy-eyed, wrapped in a blanket much longer than I would have preferred, asking, “What do I wear?” (as she stood right next to the clothes I had laid out for her). But, it wasn’t much of an irregular morning at that point.

Then, I felt a sharp pain in my stomach that doubled me over. I realized that I should probably not go to my MOPS meeting scheduled for this morning. I wanted to go. But, I get livid when people knowingly share their germs/sickness with others. And, I have another Christmas this weekend; so, I’m trying to get better and stay as healthy as possible. The idea of missing the meeting bummed me out. We only get to go to meetings once a month and I truly enjoy them.

I continued on.

It didn’t take long before I noticed that Olive had a sore of some type between her nose and mouth. I don’t get cold sores (knock-on-wood); so, I wasn’t sure if that was all it was or not. I decided to ask her about it.

“Did you scratch your face?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does this hurt?”

“What?”

“You have a sore on your face. Do you know anything about it?”

“Momma, don’t touch it.”

So, things were going well. I was gathering a lot of helpful information.

I began a short, but civil lecture about washing hands and touching faces, etc. I then told her to wash her hands with soap and water. It turned out to be an impossible task, which was easier to lie about than actually do. After a bit of back-and-forth, I finally got her to wash her hands – I’m a horrid mother, I know. I then wet a wash cloth with the intention of cleaning her face.

This was at about 7:35 AM, everybody. So, if you heard the blood curdling screams, that was coming from our house.

You would have thought that I wiped her face with sand paper. So, after the one wipe, I left the scene to throw the washcloth into the laundry room. Walking back past Olive, I just turned my head and threw my hands in the air.

I made my way to the kitchen, meeting the blank stares of the other two kids. They were sitting at the island, eating their breakfast. That is when I made the grand statement of how stupid the situation was – one of my prouder moments of the morning. I then started rummaging through our “pain reliever” container, looking for some triple antibiotic. Olive appeared at my side, and quickly realized what I was doing. She started pleading, “Momma, no!”

Over her yelling, I tried to explain that it wasn’t a painful medicine. But, just her luck, I couldn’t find it. I let out a huff and put the container back in the cabinet. While there, I saw the dogs’ Heartguard that I was supposed to give them yesterday – oops. To remember, I took the box out and threw it on the counter. That act was enough to send Olive over the edge. She collapsed on the floor and started to wail.

This was when I made the second “this whole thing is so stupid” declaration of the day. 

After getting Olive composed and cleaned up, I threw a snack cake at her and begged everyone to load up. We were now running late.

Six out of the eight blocks to school were filled with my huffs and statements of anger. Literally, I just repeated, “Ugh. I’m so mad.” - switching out the “ughs” for sighs or huffs, and switching out “mad” for “angry” or “frustrated,” whichever synonym came to mind. 

I don’t know why I do it. I guess it is part to make me feel better and part to ‘bring Olive to the realization that her behavior is irrational and unwarranted, making us all a bit grumpier and late this morning, when all I was trying to do was help her and keep her healthy.’ You know, as one could infer…

It was on block seven that I realized that we didn’t have Henry’s winter coat, just a light fleece. He didn’t even have gloves or a stocking cap. As I whirled around to look for it on the floor of the car, I almost clipped another car who was turning onto my street. I immediately mouthed, “Sorry!” to the other driver. I think I knew her too…dammit.

The coat is not there and I was well on my way to ‘Mother of the Year.’

I finally pulled up to the curb. The kids barreled out. And, I yelled, “I love you!” in their general direction, as they ran up the sidewalk. I watched until they were safely inside.

I then closed the van door, locking in the silence of my solitude. I took a deep breath.

“What in the hell…” I whispered to myself.

Now, on with the day…