I can pack a lunch in record speed. From the time the bus rounded the corner of our street, before it stopped in front of the house, I had made a sandwich and included a vegetable, fruit, and dessert, and still kissed him I love you.
But I want better for them. I don't want to be the last one out of bed. This is backwards, I think. And not every morning is like this, but many if not most of them are.
They have a mom whose day was saved by the purchase of a new wastebasket for the upstairs bathroom. It all hinged on that- whether I would have spent the rest of the day amope and static or finally clearing off the dining table and doing away with all the stacks. And cleaning the bathroom because there was a new wastebasket and it made everything look better.
How will this play out? Am I preparing independent little people who can get ready all on their own or am I robbing them of a more structured start to their day? I am here, but I'm underneath the covers. I crawl out, but it's slow and unsteady and this morning it took me a while to find my glasses.
Gray was already waiting on the driveway alone. Through the screen I heard him call for Carter, still in the house, "Did you hear that hahaha?" He belched into the air and giggled. I laughed and said "Graaaay" and he came running and kissed me on the lips and then went back to his post. I realized on today's school menu was something he couldn't have, so I rushed to make his lunch. "If the bus comes, just get on and I'll bring this to school." But I was fast and it was in his backpack and he was off.
I barely make it most days. By the skin of my teeth, I pass. All my life I made straight A's but this mother thing. It's not something I want to just scrape by... and I feel like the gap is closing, what's shaping their behavior, and memories, and when they'll catch on.