The alarm that didn't go off when it was supposed to. That delicious extra half an hour of sleep that seems even sweeter because it is unexpected. The slow realization coming with reluctant wakefulness that it is a school day and we are now running late! The nightmarish frenzy to get things together in time. The dropping of all the usual efforts for a relaxed morning routine as we run around like headless chickens (the husband and I naturally, not Nikki who seems quite removed from such mundane things as school runs) shoveling breakfast down our throats, gulping tea while furiously multitasking and setting new records for the seven second shower.
In the middle of all the madness sometimes I forget the little things.
"Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up!" I screech at my child as she meditates over the exact way to butter her toast.
"Hurry, hurry, hurry!" I squawk as she goes about the business of washing her hands with a quiet industriousness.
"We're getting late!" I work myself up into a lather as she gently blows bubbles with her own.
Forgetting that I am screeching at her for my own tardiness. Forgetting that one of the most unpleasant things about going to school can be crazy, screechy early mornings with manic parents rushing to bundle you off to school and telling you to 'hurry up' and 'rush, rush rush' and 'not be slow' and 'we're getting late because of you!' Forgetting that I was only just setting myself up for a major guilt trip later on in the day, when I could have been relaxing over a cuppa instead.
Till she reminded me. Giving me that look she sometimes does. Of infinite wisdom. And infinite patience.
"There's only so much I can do Mama. Please be happy."
And so I did. I grinned. Sang a silly song. Sat down beside her and made up a story about putting on your shoes on your own. Drove to school with the windows down and the breeze in our hair and 'mein to tuk tuk tortoise hoon' playing in the background.
And we made it to school well in time.
In the middle of all the madness sometimes I forget the little things.
"Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up!" I screech at my child as she meditates over the exact way to butter her toast.
"Hurry, hurry, hurry!" I squawk as she goes about the business of washing her hands with a quiet industriousness.
"We're getting late!" I work myself up into a lather as she gently blows bubbles with her own.
Forgetting that I am screeching at her for my own tardiness. Forgetting that one of the most unpleasant things about going to school can be crazy, screechy early mornings with manic parents rushing to bundle you off to school and telling you to 'hurry up' and 'rush, rush rush' and 'not be slow' and 'we're getting late because of you!' Forgetting that I was only just setting myself up for a major guilt trip later on in the day, when I could have been relaxing over a cuppa instead.
Till she reminded me. Giving me that look she sometimes does. Of infinite wisdom. And infinite patience.
"There's only so much I can do Mama. Please be happy."
And so I did. I grinned. Sang a silly song. Sat down beside her and made up a story about putting on your shoes on your own. Drove to school with the windows down and the breeze in our hair and 'mein to tuk tuk tortoise hoon' playing in the background.
And we made it to school well in time.
