Friday, September 16, 2011
My Own Personal Groundhog Day
Ever see the movie "Groundhog Day" starring Bill Murray? He is trapped living the same day over and over. This is my morning every Monday through Friday: Paul wakes Sara up and cooks her breakfast. I wander downstairs shortly after. She is playing in the bathroom. I tell her to pee, flush and wash her hands. Is any of that vague, unclear or confusing? After complicated mixed message is ignored, she either cooperates or loses a privilege. And acts surprised every time. Then comes the breakfast eating/staring out the window/random question asking portion of the morning. More Sophie's Choice time. Does she cooperate or lose more privileges? I'll tell you, folks. I'm on pins and needles every morning. Then comes the very difficult and time consuming portion of the morning. Putting on clean underwear, a shirt, pants and socks. This takes way more time than anyone could possibly imagine. We tried letting her have privacy in the bathroom but we discovered that all she does is dance naked in front of the mirror. Now she has to get dressed with the bathroom door open. This has improved her dressing time marginally. And if you think brushing short hair and teeth is a quick and simple process, you are woefully mistaken, my naive friends. It involves trying out multiple Lady Gaga-inspired hairstyles and walking around the house while brushing her teeth. I almost have to let that one slide because it's one of the many, many weird habits she picked up from side of the family. We are almost ready for the bus! The finish line is almost in sight!!!! Don't get too excited, folks. She has not suited up in her shoes, coat, backpack and lunch bag. This is another song and dance ritual that takes an excruciatingly long time. Finally, she is dressed and ready for school. We kicked her out to the driveway to wait for the bus. Once outside, she must examine every berry on our weird berry tree. Then she prances up and down the driveway until we see the bus headlights. When she finally boards the bus, I breathe a sigh of relief and know that the stalling, delaying and distractions are going to be handled by her very able teacher.
What keeps me from strangling my adorable yet frustrating daughter each morning? I mean, besides being the greatest mom in the world? When she is heading out the door, she does 2 things. First is our secret 'sign' to each other. She points to her eye, then heart, then me. It's our 'I love you'. Then, when it's cold enough, she draws a heart on the frost on our storm door so I won't be too lonely without her. I know, she rocks. And we are insanely cheesy.