Monday morning, at approximately 7:40 AM, Rea’s gym shorts were suddenly, irrevocably – too short. This, bombshell, was followed by much wailing and gnashing of teeth and meltdowns by both parties involved. I’ll admit right here, right now, that I lost it. How is it that those short became too short all at once? That she hadn’t bothered bringing it up before now? And that she wanted to tear the house apart for a pair of soccer of shorts that have been missing in action for months? And due to this series of events she was once more…late to school.
Some time back I lamented about Syd getting her driver’s license and ditching Rea and me. I’m sorry to say that things aren’t improving and somebody is going to have to step up to the plate. Syd inherited an OCD gene from her Dad and little did I know that she had been pulling me and her baby sister along all these years.
Left to my own devices, I do well enough. I like to plan, be on time (or close enough), but when you throw Rea into the picture. Heavenly days…getting her focused and somewhere is like the proverbial cat herding scenario. She watches bugs on the wall, stares into space, gazes at the television and if she tells me “Hold on” one more time I do believe I JUST. MIGHT. SCREAM.
Sooo, yesterday afternoon, Rea and I had a bit of a come to Jesus meeting. I resorted to a piece of paper and a schedule of sorts. I know – most people have schedules and such, but I’ve been fortunate enough not to work and I really like to do things by the seat of my pants, but hey people, the writing is on the wall, what worked with Syd is obviously not working here. Once I tried backing out of the picture, stopped picking out Rea’s clothes, riding herd over whether she had brushed her teeth and her hair, things simply fell to pot. So, she and I hammered out a time for homework, bath, practice on that INFERNAL TRUMPET and a bedtime. And most importantly, laying out school clothes for the next morning.
Hopefully, what will come of this schedule is that Rea will get to school on time. Maybe, just maybe, our mornings will be smoother. There will be enough time for some wall gazing, and soccer shorts meltdowns and the boy who absolutely refuses to scrooch over and let Rea into her locker. Because, one more tardy and she gets to eat in isolation.
Oh yeah, do me a favor please, if you see my adorable eleven year old wandering aimlessly, would you kindly point her in the right direction and remind her she has someplace to be?