Morning routines around Casa Primera can get a little crazy. It’s not uncommon for me to be barking orders to the girls, tripping over things, running back into the house for forgotten items. It’s my least favorite time of day.
First of all, I am SOOOO NOT a morning person!
And the little apples don’t fall far from the tree. Well, at least the smallest apple.
And this morning sucked hard. The time change slapped me across the face bigtime.
I got up late. And Gabi was a total zombie. I yelled at her repeatedly, as I ran around throwing my own clothes on, brushing teeth, getting my coffee, throwing my hair up in a ponytail. The clocked ticked on and Isa was going to be late. So I grabbed the barely awake little one and carried her in pj’s and bare feet to the car so we could make it to Isa’s school at the last second of drop off.
We came back home to finish, and Gabi refused to wear what I had picked out for her. She wanted something “pwetty.”
And then I lost it. Mean mama came out, and I yelled at her to get to her room and pick out whatever pwetty thing she wanted because I did not have time for her antics.
Certainly it’s not the first time I’ve yelled at my kids. But this morning? I was beyond my limit. I’m surprised the house wasn’t shaking, I was so angry.
Gabi ran to the kitchen, full on crying trying to catch her breath. And I yelled some more, “why are you in the kitchen?!!! I said, go to your room and find something to wear! Why are you in the kitchen?!!!”
And then she said it.
“you’re scaring me.”
And I flashed to the many times I saw their father yell at Isa and at my stepkids. And how they feared him. And I didn’t want to be that kind of parent. I couldn’t change him. But I can change me.
I picked her up, and took her to her room, and just sat on her bed holding her for a few minutes. She tried to wiggle away at first. But finally she buried her head in my chest and calmed down.
We both calmed down.
And I talked to her about having to do what she’s supposed to do in the morning. And that I didn’t want her to be scared of me. But that I need her to be responsible for making sure she doesn’t make us all late.
Tonight, she put on her pj’s herself. We picked out what she’s going to wear in the morning. And I reminded her of our talk this morning and that she has to get up when I tell her to.
Shit. I’m almost 40 and I still suck at getting my ass out of bed and ready on time. How can I yell at a 3 year old about it? I should go pick out my clothes for tomorrow and set the coffee timer now.