This morning things went a little differently which kind of threw me off. I never really realized how much of a routine we have and it made me think about our usual morning routine and what had changed.
I wouldn’t say I’m for or against routines, I think everybody has one, in one form or another whether its a strict army regimented routine or just a bedtime and morning ritual. But I always felt having a set routine put myself and Lincoln under pressure, so we just sort of went with what worked for us and that has ultimately created our routine. Since moving and finally settling in to our long term home things are much more at ease and settled, Lincolns sleeping patterns being the biggy in all of this! I just couldnt figure what was different if anything this morning.
Our usual morning routine on a work day usually goes like this-
4-6am– Lincoln wakes up and climbs in to bed with us.
6-6.30am (if were really lucky 7am)- Lincoln likes to wake us up usually by sitting on us protesting that we do Row your boat before hearing the dog and shouting woof woof at us to let him out. This is if he has had a really good night. Otherwise we get whinging and crying at us even thinking about getting out of bed, let alone beginning to get ourselves dressed for work. Make-up on a work day is a laughing matter! I’m lucky if I get to have a wee on my own but time to put make up is an absolute joke!
6.30-7am– Coffee.. Lots of it. With the attempt to get myself dressed, the dog out for a wee. Tom out of bed. and just general morning things.
7-7.30am– Then it is the uphill battle to get Lincoln dressed. So many people brag about there child dressing themselves at 18 months old and how “Joshua was able to get his own socks and shoes on at that age”… fuuuckkk offf… I’m lucky if i get any assistance in getting his t-shirt over his bloody head let alone get him to sit still put his own shoes on. He hates being clothed! as soon as he is naked that’s it he is gone! All i see is this tiny little bum running away from me in a very road runner manner. I literally either have to pin him down to put a clean nappy on him, or tactfully change him as he plays with his cars on the train table.
7.30-7.45 With paw patrol in the back ground this is usually where we have the battle of getting from the house to the car in an orderly manner. It begins with the putting his shoes on, sometimes he is distracted by the Tele and things go smoothly (shock horror.. My terror watches the actual television! Ring childline worst parent in the world over here!) Otherwise he is chasing the dog or destroying the living room and when I stop this I am the worst person ever! Then once his shoes are on I have a decision to make- do i juggle Lincoln, his nursery bag, my hand bag and locking the door or do i trust Lincoln to hold my hand whilst I lock the door and carry the bags the whole 50 yards to the car.
Depending on my choice it goes one of two ways. I either end up dropping everything and plunging Lincoln in to his car seat where we have a little brawl over the fact that it is the law for him to be strapped in his car seat whether he likes it or not which ends in me throwing everything in the car and then finally getting myself in or.. He manages to wriggle his hand free and where does he run… straight towards the road.. so again I end up dropping everything grabbing him and once again wrestle him in to his car seat this time even more upset that he wasn’t allowed to play with the traffic.
Then we are on our way to nursery.
Today was different… He actually helped to get himself dressed instead of wriggling away or doing a runner mid sock fitting and also laid nicely with a book whilst i put his clean pull up on. He sat nicely as i put his shoes on and when walking out the door he handed me my handbag and actually wanted to carry his own bag of nappies. Then walked nicely to the car.
I was just starting to wander who this child was and what they had done with Lincoln.. Until i strapped him in to his car seat and he decided this was 100% unacceptable and headbutted me in his attempt to escape.
The demon was back and all was right in the home once again. I’m sure this will happen time and time again. But when you get the odd glimpse of an angel child, It almost… only almost makes me consider another little one. Then I remember all the times my parents wished that I had children that were just as terrible as i was… Looks like their wish came true.
Do your kids have routines? What works best for you? Does your terror become an angel once in a blue moon?