Friday, September 13, 2013

Waking Up

Sometimes I feel like I should've been an entertainer.

I should've pursued a career on the stage, and I imagine myself delighting throngs of adoring fans with my many talents. Singing, dancing, being a mime, an acrobat, etc.

But then again, so could virtually EVERY mother out there. 

My talent show is seen daily every morning at 6:50am when I begin waking my sleeping beauties for school.



And fortunately, I take criticism from my audience pretty well and do not let it discourage me from future shows.  It doesn't bother me a bit when they groan and throw the covers over their heads or when they give me the evil eye. 

I set my own alarm for 6:30, giving myself 20 minutes to mentally prepare. I have to get into character, you see. What I really WANT to do is stand at their bedroom doors and mumble, "Get up and get ready," and then walk away. And just like that, they would cooperate and all would be well.


Unfortunately, my children in reality are not quite as cooperative as my children in fantasies. I usually begin with gentleness. I rub their backs, I kiss their cheeks, I whisper good morning into their little ears.

And then comes stage two: role play.


I grab the nearest stuffed animal and begin having a conversation with it. It doesn't matter if it's a bunny, a doll, a bear, or a tree (for real...my daughter sleeps with a little stuffed tree she sewed...maybe she'll be an environmentalist), I talk to it as if it's real. Usually the stuffed animal in my little show does or says something naughty. The kids get a real kick out of that. With their eyes still closed, I'll see the hints of a smile if the stuffed animal does something outrageous enough. I spend a couple minutes in stage two, but if the kids are still not getting up, then it's onto the next act.

Stage three: dancing and singing.

I know! You feel annoyed already, don't you? 


I turn on my ipod and stand on their bed and dance to my heart's content, jostling and disturbing them as much as possible. Van Halen, Journey, or Taylor Swift often help me serenade the little darlings. This stage is usually fairly effective because my kids are NOT in the mood to put up with my singing. But if even that fails, I move onto the final performance.

Act four: acrobatics.

I physically drag my child out of bed. I start by swinging their legs off the edge, stopping them when they try to curl back up, and then either pull them by their arms or put my hands under their backs and lift them. This is getting seriously difficult with my 10-year-old. We don't grow petite people around here.


Have you ever tried to dress an 8-year-old who is standing up but still practically asleep? It ain't easy. I coax little arms into arm holes and shove their little feet into socks (which I'll be honest, usually are not part of the same pair). The hardest part is the pants or shorts. I tug and pull and wish we could just agree that kids could go to school in their pajamas and change later in the day when they feel like it. In fact, that sounds like a pretty great rule in general, doesn't it? (Except okay, nobody really wants to see anybody else in lingerie so we'd have to have rules about decency I suppose). 

Finally up and dressed, we move the show downstairs where I then play the part of fortune teller

It's a little like trying to guess what card someone is holding when I try to guess what they would like for breakfast. And inevitably, the less time we have to eat, the more time consuming the meal they want. Cinnamon rolls? Pancakes? Biscuits? Scrambled eggs?

For the love of all things, why can't they ever just want a bowl of cereal or a pop-tart? I rarely guess correctly and usually just tell them to figure out what they want and let me know when they decide. And of course I never let them eat cookies for breakfast. Ahem. Don't judge me. It's not a regular thing!

And then the moment comes when I wave goodbye and remind them that I love them as they get out of the car with the assistance of a cute 5th grade patrol student who always says to me, "God bless your day!"

Oh, yes, I think to myself as I pull away, God has INDEED blessed my day. And His blessings will continue every day until 3:00. 

I know the afternoon performance is coming. I roll down my window, feel the (stifling) fall breeze, and give myself a little time to recover before I become the homework cheerleader in just seven short hours. 

I wonder if I could take my little act on the road. 



1 comment:

Suzy and Brian said...

Cute comparison! Our schedule is exactly the same: I get up at 6:30 and kids at 6:50.

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