For as long as I can remember I have had some character traits that occasionally clash. Ever since I was in high school myself I have been a real girl girl. When I look in the mirror unsatisfied, it is almost impossible to leave the house. Unfortunately, I am also a notorious latecomer. I can count on one hand the times that I myself have been on time for school, birthdays and appointments. Arriving on time with my children is therefore also a big challenge!
In that respect, it's really bad luck for me that school has started again. Yesterday went well, it was the first day after all, so getting out of bed was not the problem. But today all misery started all over again.
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Alarm goes off, snooze. Alarm goes off again. I get involved in an inner struggle. In my mind I yell to myself to get out of bed. But a little voice in my head says it's best for a while. I have to take advantage of the fact that the children are still sleeping well, that arriving on time is a must, right? During this battle I lose the battle and fall asleep again.
SHIT! I wake up with a start to the image of the eldest's teacher in front of me. Yesterday I met his new teacher. Super nice person, but a real teacher from the book. One where you as a parent are not allowed to cut corners. I realize that this is only day 2 and I really haven't built up any credits yet to get past the second bell.
Now there is a race against time. With the Olympics still fresh in my mind, I show myself a true Daphne Schippers in the 200 meter sprint. While I'm making sandwiches, my mind wanders. I don't want to be like Daphne Skippers. I would like to be like Usain Bolt. In the morning in the sprint here at home, take a moment to smile at the camera. Nothing to the detriment of Schippers by the way, how can that woman run! Suddenly I catch myself drifting and call to order. Get dressed, brush teeth, comb hair, make breakfast, pack a bag, put on shoes and go out the door. It can be that easy. But explain that to 2 children with my character 😉 .
Now that 'we' are in group 3, I have come to realize that preparation is really half the battle. In the evening I lay out the boys' clothes. Luckily I have boys and so no discussion about this. But I'm quite hardworking and so I still get up with no outfit in mind for myself. Result:3 min won, 5 min lost. During breakfast I do multi-tasking, so that arriving on time is within reach. Completely against the rules of parenting, that is. While the boys eat their sandwiches, I do my make-up. It's not that I don't want breakfast, but I'd rather leave home with an empty stomach than walk out the door with a makeup-free face.
I look at the clock and suddenly it's a quarter past eight, Fuck! I can already picture the teacher's gaze in my mind as I storm into the school just after the bell. The glances at the schoolyard of the mothers who are socializing after they have delivered their offspring on time. No, this is not a losing battle. I'm not giving up yet!
Breakfast is over and I quickly make an attempt as a hairstylist. Doing my own hair is always a piece of cake, but the kids' hair is so difficult. In any case, it is difficult for a woman to model a boy's haircut. With wax and gel at the ready, I make a good attempt. I know this isn't a talent of mine, but I'm also sure it would make a big difference if my son kept his head still for more than 10 seconds. But even if he did, I'm not Leco yet.
Ok, 8.20 am and we're ready. Washed, dressed, hair done, ate breakfast, and packed my bag. Lost keys. Looking for keys every morning. Can't be difficult with a key box at home, you might think. Here it is, because using the key box somehow doesn't get into my system. Everything upside down. Turns out the keys are just in the hallway with the dog leashes.
8.26 am we are finally on the bike. Valentine loves it. On his own bike and he can also give a little gas to arrive on time. Fortunately, someone still sees the humor in it!
Two minutes later we enter the school. At the classroom I see the teacher's disapproving look at a mother with daughter who is having trouble saying goodbye. Well, no matter how stupid, this means profit for me!
As Valentine and I carefully maneuver around the tears of the little girl and the pampering words of the mother, I give Valentine a kiss and wish him well. He neatly walks in without hesitation, says good morning to the teacher and shakes her hand. Wow! My child and I are a great team. As if he unconsciously wants to let the teacher know that his chaotic mother has taught him manners and that she should not immediately write his mother off. As I think that, the teacher smiles at me with a meaningful look. Wouldn't she be so strict this school year?
tip:You can find more recognizable and hilarious articles about the morning rush hour below:
