School mornings continue to be crazy at my home, as I imagine they are at yours.
Both my boys begin school at 7 in the morning, which I still can’t seem to wrap my brain around.
Considering my youngest just started consistently sleeping through the night LAST YEAR at TEN YEARS OLD, I am just not a fan of waking up a sleeping child. Sleep is a precious commodity and should be revered when it’s happening on a consistent basis.
So, somehow the task of waking up Brian has been delegated to his older brother, Corbin. I didn’t plan on that happening but it has just sort of evolved over the past few weeks.
Corbin would love to sleep in later but he’s like me and can get up with the motivation to do what needs to be done, regardless of how tired he is. He rolls out of bed, all sleepy-eyed and immediately gets dressed and pours his cereal.
He then returns back upstairs to find his little brother not having moved a muscle. He tickles him, he pokes him with a light saber, he drags him out of bed. And they both laugh and it always ends up with Corbin chasing his little brother through the house pretending to be a terrible monster and Brian yelling, “Help! Mom, help me!”.
And it’s this great scenario that I actually really love. It’s crazy and it’s loud and we’re usually only operating with another 15 minutes before we have to be out the door. But I love it and I just watch it unfold every single morning. Like sleep, actual play is never taken for granted.
This morning, after this scenario, Corbin went to gather the last of his stuff he needed for his backpack and Brian tip-toed back up the stairs and promptly fell back asleep in his brother’s bed.
Corbin poked his head into the kitchen and said, “Where’s Brian?”
I told him.
He yelled, “Oh my gosh, do I have to do everything around here by myself??”
Holy hell. That moment when you realize your child just became you- that your voice just came out of his mouth- is a very surreal moment. It stopped me in my tracks and made me realize what a martyr I must sound like on a daily basis around here.
Again, against all miracles we found ourselves in the car when we needed to be. Slightly awake and slightly groomed.
Corbin turns up the music, like he does every morning. Loud music helps him get pumped and ready for the day ahead. This morning’s was particularly soul-sucking, nonsensic, and annoying.
I yell, “What is this crap?”
And then I realize in that moment that I have turned into my stepfather. I am no longer the cool, hip, young Mom. I am turning into my parents.
I remember my stepfather clearly yelling that, changing the radio station, and thankfully giving me a music lesson on The Doors or Jimi Hendrix or Tom Petty. I might not have shown my gratitude back then, but thank you for that.
And that’s the cycle of life. Over and over again. One generation turns into the next when you’re not even paying attention.