Too often in the mornings I find myself wondering where I went wrong. Mostly this is with my son. We spend 30-45 minutes fighting about him getting dressed, what he’s having for breakfast, why he keeps trying to watch cartoons instead of getting ready, etc. Here’s an example from this morning:
Me: Felix, let’s get dressed now.
Felix: I need underwear. (Since I haven’t done laundry, the clean ones are in my room so I go get them)
Me: Here you go.
Felix: What are these ones?
Felix: Who’s that?
Me: He’s a superhero that drives a fast car.
Felix: Oh, ok. I can wear these. (Then he puts them on and we move on to his jeans)
Felix: These are really hard for me.
Me: Well, it might be easier if you were looking at what you are doing and not the tv.
Me: Stand up and pull them the rest of the way on.
Me: See, there you go. Not so hard.
Felix: I can’t button these.
Me: How do you know? You haven’t even tried. Try it.
Felix: (frustratedly fake attempts to button his jeans)
Me: You know. I bet you could do this a lot better without the tv on. I’m turning it off now.
Me: Yes. We can try with the tv again tomorrow. (Then I turned it off)
Felix: Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I CAN”T BUTTON THESE!!!!!!
Me: You haven’t really tried but now we have to get going, so I’m going to help. Now you try again and I’ll do whatever you can’t do.
This works and we move on to socks and shoes.
Me: Felix, here’s your socks. Go get your shoes and put them on.
Felix: Grrrrrrrrr…..whine……..(so now I pop him on the butt for motivation)
Felix is now not pleased with me but he goes into the living room with his socks and shoes, I presume to put them on, and Fiona follows me to the kitchen where I pour her a cup of milk and make him some carnation instant breakfast.
I come back to the living room and he is sitting on the couch, staring off into space, with one sock on. I start griping at him and he starts to put the other sock on, inside out, while I’m trying to explain how to turn it the other way and he gets growingly frustrated which of course make me more frustrated.
I finally broke down and put his other sock and both shoes on while yelling. I yell that if he can’t get ready in the mornings that he won’t go to school anymore. I yell that I’m going to put those stupid shoes (that he can never ever put on by himself…well he can but he pretends not to so we have to do it for him – i know this because he has to do it himself at school every day) in the garbage because I can’t believe I spent $45 dollars on these STUPID shoes. Not one of my finer moments but I’m so damn tired of the same crap EVERY. SINGLE. MORNING.
Then comes breakfast. I tell Felix now that he’s ready for school he needs to drink down his CIB before we leave. He then says what he always says when we try to feed him anything “I don’t want that.” New wave of frustration now sweeping over me here people. So I tell him that he doesn’t have to drink it, but that he’s not getting anything else either. Then I tell him that if he can’t have breakfast that he just won’t watch any TV when he comes home. That did the trick. He drank the whole cup in under a minute.
Then it happens. He says “Mommy, I drank all my milk!” I tell him that’s a good boy! Then he comes over and lays his head in my lap and says “Mommy, I love you.” Of course I tell him I love him too and spend the next 30 minutes (That includes the rest of his time at home, the trip to the bus and then back home) wallowing in guilt that I’m incapable of being a good mom, of having patience with my kids, that I shouldn’t have had them because I’m unconventional in my needs to put myself first in order to be a happy and complete person because when I’m not I have nothing to give to them or their dad.
I love my kids more than anything else in the entire world and where it really counts they will always come before anything else. Can you tell I’m still wallowing in the guilt a bit?
God, I can’t wait til tomorrow morning!! <—– That’s sarcasm people.