And the Honeymoon is Over….Really Over

I’m not sure what “drops” after the “other shoe,” but let’s just say this:  whatever it is did so in a big way the other morning. I could see it coming and managed to stick to my guns and let it happen.  I had only one primal scream (in private, I might add) as a result.  Which is good, isn’t it?  And I think lessons were learned by all.

Ownership is a tough skill to master, and it’s not only a challenge for kids…we adults struggle as well.  As parents, we work daily to take and keep charge of our penultimate responsibility…raising our children to be upstanding adults.  We all know how challenging  that is.  And if we decide to take on, say, the before-school morning routine, we ask ourselves to stretch our ownership even farther.  Not. easy.

I have wondered, every time my kids have to sprint to the bus in the morning, what I would do if they are actually left behind.  I knew I didn’t want to give my kids an easy out, as in “oh, we can just catch a ride with the neighbor” and that really isn’t an option anyway.  I am their last resort to get to school.  But I wouldn’t just take them immediately to avoid those tardy slips.  I’d take them in when I normally headed to town, dropping them off on the way.  But that was as far as I had gotten with my plan.  Then a neighbor posted on my Facebook page her own experience with a child missing the bus, in reference to February 2014’s post “Own It, Work It, Own It.” She helped me flesh out my approach.  Just in time (no pun intended), I might add.

So while my friend, a mother of four, you will remain anonymous, your input is about to “go viral.”

Last week, two of my three kids missed the school bus. This happened after, pardon my bluntness, screwing around the entire morning.  It seemed just before heading out-the-door, as they were pulling it together and “checking the list,” they may actually have this one in the bag.  My high-energy son was already halfway to the bus stop and I followed him, hoping my departure from the house would signal to my sluggish duo that, seriously, it was time to GO.

Well, the bus arrived and my son loped aboard but there was no sign of my son and daughter until, like magical movie timing, they rounded the bend in the road just as the bus pulled away.  Forgive me, but the look on their faces was priceless.  Where was my camera?  (I’m allowed a few Bad Mommy Moments, aren’t I?)

So I took a deep breath and checked my pulse (aka the Mommy Barometer!  See the 2/19/2014 post by the same name.) and said:

“Ok, guys.  Go back home.  I will take you to school BUT I need some of your time in exchange for mine to drive you there.”

So I put them to work.  Folding laundry and putting it away.  Now, it rather annoyed me how much fun they were having while fulfilling their chore.  I wasn’t entirely surprised:  work wasn’t always a punishment to me as child.  Yes, I was a weird kid.  I once said to my kindergarten teacher, “This is fun!” as she made me clean a chair on which I had written my name.  So I chalked up Laundry Party Time to bad genetics and simply pressed them, in the calm voice I felt capable of using after my aforementioned (private) primal scream, to finish their job.

It was only then did we leave for school.  The kids would be tardy.  It would go on their records, I told them, and here’s where I lowered the boom:  as arriving late for an obligation is considered poor manners and also disruptive to their teachers and classmates, they would need to apologize to for being late.

My van had never known such silence as that moment.

Consider the boom lowered.

I really wasn’t enjoying this…really.  (However, as I write about it I am a tad gleeful…Bad Mommy strikes again.)  I was rather disgusted but made every effort to conceal my feelings and not lecture harshly about the importance of being on time and what we could do make the following morning successful.  I think the word onward was mentioned a time or two.  This morning was behind us; let’s look ahead.

Well, nearly behind us.  Fifteen minutes late, I walked my son and daughter into school where I had them, not me, request their tardy slips.  Then I escorted them to their classrooms and gently prompted each of them to apologize to their teachers for their tardiness.  And they did.  Feebly, quietly.

Apologies were accepted in the most supportive manner.

I left my kids with a hug and a have-a-good-day.

Onward.

quick link:  And the Honeymoon is Over