Adaptability and the Morning Marathon

There's a special kind of chaos that unfolds between the hours of 6:30 and 8:00 AM in our household with children. It feels like a daily morning marathon: race against time when capable humans seem determined to move at the pace of continental drift while the clock speeds forward like a rocket.

You may know the scene: you've asked them to get out of bed, go to the bathroom, brush their teeth, put on socks like seven hundred times. Breakfast still untouched, constant reminders and you've got exactly 12 minutes to get everyone out the door before we are officially late.

Let's be honest: mornings can be brutal despite the best intentions and regardless how well we prepared in the evening physically, mentally. Children, with their developing brains aren't wired to feel the urgency of "hurry up, we're going to be late!" the way our adult brains are. Add in factors like, sleep inertia, that groggy feeling that makes waking up difficult and why I don’t snooze my alarm, all the sensory sensitivities that make certain external factors, such as light, clothes or breakfast textures problematic,  anxiety about the upcoming school day, but “I don’t want to talk about it right now!!”, their developmental need to assert independence ("I don’t want to go, I want to sleep!", however in the evening it feels impossible to put them into bed, because “the whole family is together, we can have so much fun”, etc.) and we of course forwarded that clock again to make this process even more difficult. Yes, it feels good to say it out loud, because it is valid and I m sure I am not the only one dealing with this challenge on a daily basis.
It's no wonder that mornings often become battlegrounds rather than peaceful launchpads for the day, how we as parents intend them to be.

There's plenty of advice that suggests we just need to "make mornings fun!" or "start each day with gratitude!" I am a big advocate for that and that is valid too and it regulates me and sets my tone for the day, but my kids haven’t and they are grateful and everything, but one doesn’t feel they can take the dog out for a walk, because…or one doesn’t want to get out of bed at 7:05, because they haven’t slept enough. While well-intentioned, I am very aware that this approach could easily slip into either toxic positivity, pretending everything is fine when it isn't, plastering on a smile while the blood pressure skyrockets,  denying real feelings of frustration and replacing them with empty affirmations. I have done it, the excessive and ineffective masking of a happy, that minimizes authentic human experience, while I was scattered into pieces inside. Because each morning every single one of us, all sovereign beings are having our authentic human experiences through the compulsory “we must get ready” morning. Or slip into the negative side of the pendulum, while looking for the right balance. It upsets me many times, plants doubts into my head, bring up triggers and shadows and can easily start a negative downward spiral in the mental dimension, which brings more upset in the emotional and questions even more all my competence spiritually as well, since I am responsible for those human beings.

Real patience however isn't about plastering on a smile while seething or sobbing inside. It's not about denying our frustration when our nine-year-old has somehow managed to elbow into the milk for the third time this week.

True patience acknowledges the difficulty while still maintaining composure and serenity.

What actually helps me is calling it by its name, I am naming my struggle. "This morning feels really challenging. We're all having a hard time." For a long time I thought I had to keep it all together in order to be a good example for my kids. I was so mistaken. Acknowledging reality creates space for genuine solutions rather than anything forced and believe me, kids get it! And they will do everything to do their best. For this I must also lower the bar and accept that some mornings our success simply means everyone got out of the house with the right uniform for the day and that's enough. Building in buffer time is also a help, because the extra cushion reduces some of the panic when inevitable delays occur, however, I tried competing time in several ways, this feels the most suitable for our household dynamics.
We also do prepare what we can the night before and I do some bits early in the morning, that’s my more functioning time, so I can be available for them and help here and there without risking that I forget something (yes, it has happened a million times). The uniform for next day can be put out by themselves, piano book, PE kit, with a reminder in the afternoon after getting home. I like to do the lunchboxes fresh in the morning, but backpacks are ready to go, which eliminates major morning friction points at least.

I also need to remind myself several times that when my child moves with glacial slowness while I am trying to rush, they're not deliberately trying to ruin my day, even if it feels like that. They're just being a child. To help them stay on task once they are out of bed, I use visual cues to help them track their morning progress.
Still, it happens so many times that I loose my cool, haha, yes, you guessed it, this morning was one of those mornings again and that’s why I am typing so eagerly right now. Perfect patience is never the goal though, consistency however over time is. This morning was flactuated like the sea. When I inevitably snap or raise my voice, I do my best to  take that deep breath and apologize specifically: "I'm sorry I raised my voice. I felt frustrated, but that wasn't helpful." …and reset together "Let's try again. What do we need to do next?"
I do believe that this models both accountability and resilience—two things we ultimately want our children to learn, right? I do not want them to have that false sense that being an adult means you are done, you know everything. That is a brutal toxic misleading behaviour. You might be different, you might be able to handle it with more ease. It is a work in progress in our household and it is okay.
I also like to notice and celebrate all the small things that go well though, even partially well. "Hey, you got dressed without any reminders today!" or "We made it out the door five minutes earlier than yesterday!"
I start with myself. For me recognizing incremental improvements builds motivation for both me and my inner child, and I am getting feedback that so does for my children. This is my focus, this helps me going and want to do it better.

On particularly difficult mornings, I do my best to remind myself that this is temporary. These days feel endless, but the years are short and someday I will miss some elements of these chaotic mornings—maybe not the stress or the rushing, but certainly the small warm hands and the bedhead hair sticking out of their pajamas and the sleepy morning hugs, because those are part of the chaos too.

There is no magic formula that makes frantic mornings disappear and some days will flow smoothly, and others will feel like swimming upstream. I want to keep it real for my kids, as perhaps success isn't measured by whether everyone leaves the house with matching socks and perfectly combed hair. Maybe success is simply that in the midst of all this chaos, we managed to treat each other with basic dignity. That even when rushed and frustrated, we didn't say things we'd later regret, or if we did, we do have the courage to apologise and mean it. That we modeled for our children how to navigate difficulty without falling apart (completely). That is not toxic positivity, I believe that is genuine resilience. And it is something worth striving for, one chaotic morning at a time.

I want to keep it real for my kids, I want to keep working on real patience, the kind that acknowledges the struggle while maintaining the assurance that tomorrow morning might go just a little bit smoother. And if not, that’s okay too.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻
-`♡´-

Always with love

Bee✨