Last year, towards the end of the school year, our morning routine devolved into something akin to stupid. In this routine we established, I brought Brynna's breakfast to her in bed every morning, gave her a shake and left it on her pillow. About ten minutes later, I would stick my head in the door, see if the Medusa snakes had slithered back inside her skull yet and help her get dressed or run for the hills.
I don't like this routine. For one thing, it is centered on me serving Brynna and her greatest accomplishment of the day being taking her plate in the kitchen (which she only manages to do half the time). So, this year, I was all "I'm not havin' it!" I have dutifully gotten up earlier and earlier for the entire first month of school and woken Brynna four, five, sometimes six times a morning, fought the beast, drug her kicking and screaming into the kitchen, force fed her breakfast, threatened her life for not getting dressed and cried it out with her in the kitchen floor.
In other words, I have demanded a normal family and life and have ended up with screaming banshees.
So, this week, I have given up. Actually The Husband has forgotten to reset the alarm, so I have overslept. Yes, it's his fault. No, I won't consider my own complicity in not just getting up 15 stinking minutes before I have to.
Anyway, with the oversleeping, I just don't have time for the whole mess. The whole pretending to be cheerful while someone is screaming at you to get away from them. The whole coming in every three minutes to check to see if I can see eyes yet. The whole begging a person to eat something and then ending up letting her take it in the car anyway. It's exhausting.
Wednesday, I tried, but finally ended up plunking the microwaved frozen waffles that only slacker moms buy anyway on her pillow and heading for the hills. Thursday, I made one attempt, then gave in. Today, I went into her room at 7 a.m. for the first time with a plate of said waffles, gave her a nudge and said, "oooh. chocolate chip." and left. I didn't even wait to see if she woke up.
And, like clockwork, five minutes later, she came in the kitchen, bright eyed and bushy tailed to remind me that I didn't bring milk and we hadn't laid out clothes last night. (We still left the house almost 15 minutes late this morning, but it was because we just couldn't decide between the pink boots and the gold boots and OHMYGOODNESS! WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY KID! ARE THERE ANY OTHER CHILDREN ON EARTH THIS FASHION OBSESSED. As usual, I threatened to make her go barefoot, reminded her that she has really outgrown the pink ones and she aquiessed to gold boots. Like anyone cares. She wears bedroom slippers in her classroom, so all this stress is over ten minutes at the beginning of school and the five minutes it takes to walk from school to afterschool and put on different slippers.
She just wakes up best on her own. With the motivation of food.
And, I don't know. I can't decide if that's okay. I mean, maybe I'm waiting on her hand and foot and giving her some false expectation of what life is going to be like. Or maybe I'm adapting to her natural challenges and working around what is obviously going to be a lifelong "not a morning person" thing. And really, I'm not a morning person. The minute no one was looking, I ditched eating breakfast forever. And I don't even brush my hair until I get in the car. Those frozen waffles, yeah. I could make "real" waffles. I do it for breakfast for supper at least once a month. I make good waffles. I could mix the batter, put it in the fridge and spend approximately 2 extra minutes and have real waffles with warm fake maple syrup for breakfast. So, why don't I? Because thought and I don't get along until at least 9. At least.
I didn't have to get up and pretend to be a Cleaver every morning. Of course, no one brought me breakfast in bed every morning either. But I did get to get up and get ready on my own terms.
So, I don't know. I may be ruining her forever, but goodness gracious if I can go one morning without that shrill scream to GET OUT, GET OUT, GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT! then it's a good freaking morning.
Feel free to weigh in, but understand that I don't promise to take anyone's advice. Ever.