Image: Charles Deluvio
Getting out of the door in the morning with small children can be difficult.
I see you.
Even if the morning is a well oiled machine, I’m still rushing.
Get up early. Rush, rush, rush. In the car, rush, rush, rush.
I even rush the day before. Most of the day. It’s absolute chaos sending two small people out into the world - with everything they could possibly need.
And I personally find it challenging to know that more sacrifice on my behalf is the only way to make it work. Get up earlier and stay up later. Organise, carry a huge mental load, prepare for anything.
Like, I could change things: not have the breakfast that I like, not exercise for my health, not do things in the order that works best for me, get rid of my fringe so I don’t have to style my hair and not brush my teeth. (Although, not sure I can get away with that one.)
I often get in the car and realise I haven’t got shoes on. I’m serious. This has happened multiple times.
The biggest wake up call this week was dropping my children to family before I went to work and in my rush, I did not say a proper goodbye. I did not say goodbye at all.
I was too concerned with putting the bags down, sorting the lunch boxes out and talking to Nana about how they were feeling and what they would need.
I got in the car and watched their faces through the window only to realise that I didn't give them a hug. But I was so late - so I left and it (perhaps needlessly) ate me up all day. They didn't even seem to notice. In the rush, it feels like there isn’t even room for my values; being on time, prioritising space for my needs too. I am the well oiled machine that I speak of. Except there’s no room for me.
I kept holding onto this concept that I was doing things wrong. Surely I can’t be up at 9pm packing bags? Surely my kids can just get themselves sorted? Surely, surely, surely?
I'm learning and continuing to learn that my children and family life are not something to be cracked. There is no hack. There's nothing that makes this easier. It just is - and connection is always the key. Every single time. I’d much rather spend the morning playing silly games about shoes and letting them climb into their own seat than putting my own rush onto them.
“Are we late, mum?” my five year old says every morning as we drive out of the garage. She's worried.
Another wake up call.
I need to let them be little.
The trick is to reassess values. Prioritise. Let some stuff go. What sacrifice now means that I am more comfortable later? Is it truly a sacrifice then?
As much as I said I didn’t want to get up earlier and sacrifice more of myself, I hate being late and I hate leaving my kids full stop - let alone without saying goodbye.
So I’m going to love getting up a bit earlier this week.
See you at 5am, fam.
Are the mornings busy for you too? How do you find your version of "surrender"? Comment below or join the conversation on Instagram or Facebook.
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