As I faced this morning my mind swirled with ideas of how I could help each child kick off a happy morning. How could I help Maya not feel rushed (because that will send her into a heap of frustration which will then slow her down and make her more rushed...repeat cycle). How can I get Hayley to choose to get up and get ready instead of laying in bed with her latest good book, waiting to fight with me when I prod her along? Alice has been obsessed with American Girl audiobooks and coloring her detailed color-by-number pages everyday. Can I somehow help her feel like it's her choice to get ready before turning on her book and coloring?
Knowing each child's weak points and struggles is such a privilege and a burden. I hold such power to influence because I understand the minute details that may derail them.
I chose to hide Hayley's book last night without her knowing. It worked. Not seeing it sitting there as she woke up meant she didn't think about reading before getting ready. Happy morning. No door slamming. No running for the bus. No fights. Even an "I love you" on the way out the door. I paused to appreciate that success.
2 more kids, 1 more hour...
Earlier, after scriptures and family prayer, I had cautiously pointed out that this morning will feel more rushed because there is no delay for school. I asked Maya and Alice what we needed to do differently so that we aren't frustrated and rushed at the end. I guided them to feeling like they were choosing to do "first things first". They even came up with a fun plan to give each other high fives after they each did a chore. Yes! They were off...
I moved through the motion of morning always observing where everyone was. Keeping a pulse on emotions and distractions. Helping keep people on track when I saw possible squabbles or tempting diversions. Things seemed so good. I walked a room away to finish doing my hair and listened to the high fives and bustling going on. And then I started to hear it...
The intensity of happiness was increasing exponentially and it hit me. I should be happy--it sounds so good. But I know something they don't know. This intensity is too much and there's going to be a bursting point. (Is this normal? Does anyone else know what I'm talking about here?!) I tried to insert myself back in the middle to be the grounding force for all those little excited happy feelings that were getting away. But they barely even noticed me. So I waited...
Not even 10 minutes later it came. One minute over zealous best friend sisters. The next minute: nemesis's. I don't even remember what the trigger ended up being but I heard the inevitable screams at each other. The footsteps rushing to tattle. The "she always..." "why can't she ever...". I knew they'd hit that bursting point.
I separated kids. Tried to remain un-emotional. Waited for the explosions to pass. Then went about finishing the things that had to happen. Made lunches. Reminders. Backpacks. Coats. Kisses. Done.
Intensity. It's what family life is. At least in our home. The joys are intense. The sorrows are intense. I guess I could wish for a less intense existence. Instead, I probably need to bask in the moments of intense joy and not always brace for the explosion. I do wish I couldn't see it coming quite so clearly....or that everyone else would gain my perspective (or find my warnings very wise!), so that together, we could divert from the bursting point.