I could swear Kim Zolciak was singing Tardy for the Party in my dream. Or was it just the alarm? That horrible tinny pop music that my kid uses to wake him?
Only it never wakes him.
Me? Another story.
So I start the morning routine. Yawning. My eyes burning. Coffee. Even the aroma helps. Next, a few words in my journal though I wonder why I bother. I also wonder if I fell asleep with Bravo on. That would explain Kim. At least I hope so.
No matter. I’m tap-tap-tapping my son’s shoulder. Gently. He’s sleeping on the couch, books and clothes scattered on the floor. He mutters “five more minutes” and I relent.
Wake up call
Now I’m tapping again. Not so gently. I fix his lunch and return to the couch. I think that’s my voice. Scratchy and annoyed. My life as an irritant. It’s a gift – what can I say?
Now he’s groaning. I’m jiggling harder. Now he’s up, he’s trudging to the bathroom, I hear the shower… Success!
And still, 30 minutes later we’re racing out of the house. Late. Again.
Chronic lateness (planning FAIL)
I am chronically early. At least, I used to be. I still manage to meet deadlines. Chalk it up to stubbornness and caffeine. And more discipline than I care to admit to. But as for everything else?
These days my son and I are beat. Chronically late. His schedule is jammed. Mine is overflowing. I’m used to running on four and five hours of sleep a night. The haze that eventually lifts and lowers again. Then I’m sifting through it to find my words. My focus. My patience.
But now he’s doing it, and I’m all over his little ass. To plan better. To prioritize. To write everything out on a calendar. Telling him he must make choices.
Maybe if I set all the clocks in the house ahead. And the computers, too. And the digital dials in the dashboard, the dishwasher, the microwave, my cell phone, his cell phone while he’s sleeping. If he’s sleeping.
Adolescent sleep deprivation
I’ve mused and moaned about my years of sleep deprivation. But seeing it in my son? And the slippery slope of chronic lateness that results?
When do we hit that period of coasting? The stretch of parenthood that gets easier? When will he hit a period of down time, so he can catch his breath? And theoretically, so can I?
We know that teens need sleep. Millions of adults need sleep, too. And we’re setting a lousy example. I’m setting a lousy example.
Coffee and consternation: The parenting agenda
I’m checking my Day Planner. Back from the drive to and from school. I’ll need to make another trip. Critical paperwork was left at home in our hurry out the door. In the fog of four hours of sleep. Mine.
I’m brewing my third pot of coffee, well over my self-imposed limit. It’s only mid-morning.
And now I’m two hours behind schedule; the phone rings – it’s important – and I’m two and a half hours behind. It will be another late night.
Don’t want to be late? Less on your plate!
I set my sights on greater efficiency. I pare down to essentials. I lecture the kid (often) on time management. But I’m the poster child for “do as I say, don’t do as I do” on this one. My plate runneth over. So I give the speech, then drink another coffee and press on.
So much for planning, for my dislike of tardiness. Ah… Is that where Tardy for the Party came in?
It is what it is. Parenting. Even more so, single parenting. And while I want to treasure these last precious days and nights with my son, I can’t help but count down: seven more months until graduation – his, and in a way, my own.
Even if we don’t coast, maybe then, we can toast.
Oh my goodness, that dragging, pushing, pulling our children hither and yon, seems like it never ends. A long time ago I decided it was worse with boys, primarily because I didn’t remember needing those “assists” when I was a kid. Then I started spending time with my brother’s girls and they’re just as bad as my son was. There were 5 kids in my family and I know my mother didn’t devote that kind of time to getting us where we needed to be. I wonder what changed.
I don’t remember that kind of parental involvement either. But times were different, SF. Expectations were different. We weren’t all “wired in.” Roles were less muddied, albeit far more restrictive.
We pay a price for our options, and for our “advances.”
I try not to count down the days with my kids. They’re still little so it’s a LOT of days! I want to enjoy my time with them. I want to be aware of their personalities and every subtle change as they grow older.
Single parenthood tries to rob us of this.
Take it back. Stop for a moment and observe. Let some things go.
If you do it, I will too. 😉
I’d love to “take it back,” T. But what the machinery requires to keep running means this little mother keeps pedaling – as fast as she can – to keep it all cranking! (But I’m going to think about this. And see if there isn’t some way to take a little of it back, while I can… )
The key for me to being on time is setting my alarm a full 20-30 minutes before I need to get up. I find that I am difficult to roust in the morning and the hitting of “snooze” is a necessity. And, the fact that my son doesn’t have PE first period anymore (now it’s English), I can’t have him be late on my account!
And, these dark mornings are no help.
Don’t you love the tricks we play with our clocks and alarms? 🙂
Actually, I’m not the problem. It’s “the kid.” That’s the part I’m still trying to teach him. The consequences of his actions on others, as well as himself. And on me, specifically. (You’re so right about these dark mornings, Cathy. And soon to be worsened by the time change.)
I have this dream where I am never late for anything. Sadly it is a dream, in part my tardiness is my own fault. But much of it is tied into the kids and their ability to turn any task into something that takes 6 times as long as it should.
Eva reflected on a similar topic yesterday and you both have me thinking about when to say “enough” to one more thing. The problem is that there always seems to be a reason to say yes – especially when it comes to our kids and, I can only imagine, when that kid is in the fall of his senior year in HS.
As for that “coasting” phase of parenthood, I’m only 3 years in, but I certainly haven’t seen one yet. And I don’t hold out much hope that one is coming any time soon. For you, maybe next fall when he’s out from under your roof?
P.S. You know that I adore you, but I’m not sure if the fact that you now have “Tardy for the Party” stuck in my head is a forgivable offense. 😉
Imagine my terror when I realized I was waking to Tardy for the Party in my head!! 🙂
I hate being late. Hate it. I like being 5 minutes early or right on time (because I also hate waiting). I think my lessons came early when I was required to set my own alarm clock and wake up while in middle school. If I didn’t, my parent’s wouldn’t have helped me. I was on my own. It sounds cruel, but I probably would have been irritated had my parents attempted to help me. Miss Independent since birth, I tell ya.
I’m with you Amber. I also hate being late! (But wait until your kids hit junior and senior year in high school. It all changes when they’re up half the night or all night to do schoolwork… On that note, time to go raise my voice in “Get up now“… for a third time…)
I am chronically late. And I hate it. I’m not sure what makes me late. It’s like I’m trying to squeeze every last ounce out of a minute, thinking they last longer than they actually do. It’s exhausting. To be late. To think about being early. Life, in general, and all its requirements. Exhausting. I need a nap.
Oh Sarah. I hear you. Yes, yes, and yes.
Argghhh!!! I now have post-traumatic stress after reading this post. I spent six years crying, begging, yelling, threatening Kelly to get out of bed… NOW! But to no avail. What finally worked was Kelly driving and having to face the repercussions of waiting in a long line with all the other late drivers. HA! That, and I now sing her awake. She’ll get up so she doesn’t have to hear anymore, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…” Try it.
My oldest begs every night for 15 more minutes, 30 more minutes, so he can read his book. of course, he can’t wake up the next morning. Ugh. The need to stay up to finish work (which pays the bill) happens with me often too and all because I just want to spend time with the kids since I don’t get to see them, and I don’t start working until they go to bed. More coffee, anybody?!
Pass a little coffee through the computer screen… would you mind, subWOW? 🙂
We totally play tricks on ourselves with the clocks in this house. It’s necessary because the traffic is so bad that getting out late can mean a difference of HOURS. Hoping you catch a break soon so that both of you can get some extra sleep.
Don’t you love those tricks with the clocks? They work, don’t they?
And thanks, CT. The kid catches naps here and there. But I’m hoping he’ll sleep a chunk of the weekend.
My goodness, I wish I were chronically early. My in-laws and best friend are, but me? Not so much. (Neither are my parents and siblings. Let’s blame the tree, shall we?) What drives me really nuts is how accurately I can assess what my husband’s timeline should be. When his morning starts to derail, I watch it and give advice. But I’m a lost cause for myself, unless the pressure is really great. Why I can’t make my own demands pressure enough is beyond me!
I detest being late. In my grad school days, one professor shut the auditorium door when it was time for class. You couldn’t even be a second late. I still remember the brown of that door.
As I’ve gotten older, I know I sometimes plan too much, whether it be for my daughter or for myself, and I’ve got to get better at having some down time. Life doesn’t always have to be a quick succession of events.