Morning Drill (Sergeant)

Please note, this blog does not provide the answers to parenting. As brought to life below.

OK, so why is it that kids wait until we are supposed to be walking out the door for school to remember a book, to put on their other shoe, to begin eating breakfast, to realize they have a sore throat, … the list goes on. While, in fact, they fought me every step of the way during the past hour as I tried to get them out of bed, dressed, teeth brushed, downstairs, eating anything for breakfast, shoes on (the right feet) and out.

While stomping the accelerator far too forcefully for our sleepy neighborhood, I felt I needed to explain my erratic driving habits and my overall dictatorial presence every morning.

So I say, “Guys, I’m not trying to be mean. And I’m not trying to punish you by asking you to do all these things each morning before school. I’m just trying to make sure you get dressed in time so we’re not rushed for breakfast, and then get rushed in putting on shoes and coats, and then are rushed so much that I’m scaring our neighbors who are reaching for their leashed dogs as we fly by." (humor always seems to help)

But just when I feel I’ve explained things perfectly clearly, my six-year-old daughter says very quietly, “Sorry, daddy.”

I am now a terrible father – I’m certain of it. I’ve drummed her into apology and our son into silence and hanged head.

So I quickly explain they have nothing to be sorry about. And, in fact, maybe I do. Maybe I can have less of an edge every morning. Maybe we can work together to make mornings better for everybody. Then, on cue, the school drop-off monitor pulls open our door, I insert a very hopeful “I Love You” and, thank God, hear responses as they rush out. Even so, I drive away with a pit in my gut. Ugh, parenting hurts.

I don’t have the answer to this puzzle other than to say that I feel these moments are necessary in parenting. I learn, they learn and I feel we understand each other a little better. I’ll let you go – don’t want to rush you.

PT Cruiser...

You may be familiar with the “punch buggy” game where, while driving, if someone in the car sees a VW bug they can yell “punch buggy!” and slug the person of their choice in the shoulder. Well, we’ve added to that – as I’m sure many families have.

We can also yell, “PT Cruiser, give you a bruiser” (slug) or “Mini Cooper give you a whooper” (slug) and our latest addition “Mustang, boomerang” (swirl hand in front of another’s face, over their head, then whap ‘em in the back of the head).

Two things can go wrong with these games: age and exposure. Age is not a problem in our family since the oldest is just 9 and knows not to truly clobber his 6-year-old sister. But I can see where teenage boys and girls can do some damage. As for exposure, we played this on a road trip to Indiana this summer and by the time we got to West Virginia, our 6-year-old had had it. “I don’t want to play,” she’d plead as her older brother sang the make & model and punched her already-sore shoulder. Over-exposure also occurs when passing a dealership. Fists are flying in the back seat and I’m confused if it’s a comedy or tragedy occurring in my mirror.

I called a Time-Out after that trip. But I’ve since re-instated the game, and here’s why: Siblings show their love in many different ways. And, yes, I feel this is one of them. I honestly believe siblings feel the “he loves me enough to slug me” in addition to the thrill of competing in the game itself. I've been slugged by my brother and pinned and 'tickled to death' by my sisters - and I loved it (in hindsight, of course).

So whether it’s wrestling at home or slugging in the backseat, I want our children to feel the contact of their sibling’s fist from time to time.