Mundane as Heck.

5 Jun

Mornings are interesting at my house.  It seems that while the alarm clock buzzes in time to get us all up and out of bed, we still find a way to lounge about for just a few more minutes.  Once we finally do roll our sleepy heads out of our comfortable cocoon of sheets and blankets, there isn’t an enormous amount of time to spare.  Yet, coffee is made, news is flipped on, facebook, e-mail, top headlines are checked, breakfast is munched.  With 7 minutes left on the clock, clothes are ironed, lunch is packed, shower is taken, and a frantic look about for keys, phone, wallet, badge, and shoes occurs.  A quick “I love you”, a peck on the lips or cheek if we’re lucky, door closes and locks, car starts and is heard speeding away down the road.

I stand in silence for a minute.  Sometimes saying a prayer for my husband.  Other times muttering under my breath.  I unplug the iron, fold down the ironing board, put them both away, and go knock on my son’s door to get him moving for the morning.

As I push him through the morning steps; vitamin, breakfast (yes you can have milk in a glass instead of in your cereal…  DRINK your milk!!!!….  You can look at the birds out the window but you have to keep eating!!!…), shower (but, with the door slightly propped open so I can holler a “get out now” without trying to muffle it through the closed door, shower curtain, and barreling water falling over my child’s ears…and of course, the constant reminder before the shower even begins to make sure you have a towel…), get dressed (did you get your dirty clothes out of the bathroom???), make your bed, clean up your room, brush your teeth, go make your hair look less crazy please, Oh geez… I forgot to make his lunch.  Sigh.  Running about the kitchen grabbing lunch items together while my kid worriedly stares at me, sweatshirt on, book bag slung over his shoulder, concern dripping from his every pore that he may in fact miss the early bus…  me, annoyed, knowing he WON’T miss the early bus.  Lunch passed off, hug and kiss and lots of “I love yous” and reminders to be well behaved at school, door closes, and my son is running down the sidewalk to get to the corner and wait for his beloved bus ride.

Sometimes I sit on the couch listening for the bus and breathe a sigh of relief once I know he has made it on… Other times, I stand at the window peering out at his slight form standing there waiting, and I smile…and often want to cry.

When I see him standing there, I am so very reminded of how quickly the years have flown by.  How did we get to this point where I’m even ok with him standing near the road let alone on a sidewalk by himself???  And since when does my kid take showers by himself and feed his own face?  When exactly DID that start happening?  Because, before my very eyes, my son is getting taller, more handsome, a bit more ruddy in the cheeks, full of ideas and opinions, and a drive and passion for life that is never stomped down even when faced with adversity.  My son is becoming a man right before my very eyes.  I try to not envision him as a teenager because that not only makes me intensely freaked out but it also makes my eyes water….so, I push that thought aside and turn to look at the morning aftermath.

There is bread to be put away, peanut butter containers and jelly jars to screw the lids back on to, crumbs to swipe off the counter, sticky messes to be wiped up, baggies to be put back in the cupboard, milk and cereal messes to make sure aren’t forming gelatinous concrete style masses on my kitchen table, load of dishes to start, coffee pot to turn off, water to be dried up off the bathroom floor, lights to turn off, and a huge sigh of relief to be taken as I gingerly set my 8 month pregnant self on the couch.

It takes me about an hour of researching, facebook-ing, myfitnesspal-ing, blogging, and e-mailing to realize that I am an exhausted mess.

Occasionally, I’ll march my tired self straight back to bed.  Other times, I’ll push away the exhaustion, throw my hair up in a bun, pull on my socks, tie up my tennis shoes, and walk in the morning peace and quiet listening to the birdies chirp for the next 40minutes.  Either way, no matter which one I choose first, the other one is always sure to follow.

There have been moments where I have felt like a complete and utter failure as a wife and a parent knowing the seeming chaos that occurs each and every morning.  Yet, there is comfort in even this pressured routine.  Oh, I’ve made charts to follow strictly and I’ve planned ahead and made lunches the night before (only to half the time have them forgotten in the refrigerator… eh hem).  I’ve even set the timer on the coffee pot so it’s all ready to go when my husband stumbles blindly and dead tired into the kitchen to pour himself a mug full.  Sometimes, I’ll have even gone so far as to have every single pair of dress pants washed, ironed, hung, and ready to go in the closet so I can just pretend I’m not awake in bed and let things take care of themselves.

But, truth be told, while I enjoy my slumber, I don’t enjoy it more than the few moments I have snuggled under a big blanket on the couch with my husband chugging my water while he sips his coffee and we both make remarks on the appalling things we see on the news.  I like to be the last one to say goodbye to him in the morning, passing off his thermos of coffee, lunch bag, keys, phone, book, and badge while announcing exactly where his shoes and jacket are so he isn’t looking for them.  Even though it is quick, the hurried “I love yous” and occasional kiss before he rushes out the door are all worth it to me.

It is our routine.  It is our life.  It is what we do and it is who we are.  To be the perfectly ordered family with each check in the box slashed off while I wear my a-line dress, heals, and bow in my hair just simply won’t ever happen.  We do our best, we love as much as we possibly can, and while this sort of routine can have frustrations and may morph into something more ‘reasonable’ with time, for now, it works.

Being content with exactly who and what your family is can sometimes be a challenge, but looking at yourselves with a kind eye can only make what you see more precious and dear.

I call these sorts of realizations “watering my soul”…  Yea, they are mundane as heck, but it is exactly what we all need to truly grow…

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