Good morning. This week I published a video on Facebook about my morning ritual (see below). In extremely accelerated form, indeed, but it still gives a bit of an idea of what it's like here in the morning. Monique responded that her morning ritual – that of her family actually – looks a bit different. And yes, after reading it I can confirm that. I can't complain just looking at the time her alarm goes off and mine 😉 . A real power woman!
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It's 06:00. The alarm goes off. I turn it off with a stray tap. The day has begun, even though my eyelids still feel heavy. Every weekday I have a fixed schedule in the morning that I have to go through. I have a busy day with a daughter who goes to a school in another town and a disabled son who has to go to a day care center.
I had imagined it so differently. I joked about those 'poop moms who drove their kids to a Dalton school in another village'. Now the reality is that I have become one myself. My 5.5-year-old daughter had an educational need that she didn't get around to at her old school. She had to go to another school with a plus class where she does get the teaching material she needs so much. A Dalton school. Coincidentally.
Karma is a bitch. What else can I say about it?
My son is severely physically handicapped but he understands everything. Many people do not understand this. At the one in Baarn, yes. So, 5 days a week, I drive him back and forth to a room where he is offered a stimulating program with 5 other disabled people and two supervisors.
Time to stop musing. It's 6:15 am, I'm taking a shower. In the kitchen below the bathroom, I hear the timer-set coffee maker grind my fresh coffee beans for a cup of inky black coffee. The most important meal of the day. I look out the bathroom window. The lights at the neighbors are still off.
06:45. I'm picking out the clothes for my daughter and myself. I get dressed in the semi-darkness. At 07:00 I arrive dressed with a pile of clothes for my daughter in the living room. We eat sandwiches that I spread the night before. Simply because it saves me half an hour in the morning. Along with strong coffee. My cups are cracked, and I think it's because of that.
07:15. I'm going to dress my son. He is 19 years old, but can hardly do anything by himself. I also have to dress myself for him. First I wash him and then I put a Tena on him, his cool boxers and his clothes. Then I dodge his flailing arms and his grabbing hands that almost pull out a bunch of hair from me. After all these years, it still frustrates him that he is so dependent. I brush his teeth and in the meantime hope my daughter was smart enough to dress herself. I look through the window again and see that the neighbor turns on the light and starts waking her children.
07:35:I come into the living room and chase my daughter in her clothes. She's super smart but dressing herself is a bridge too far. Then I am met by a son who is smacking at me in his wheelchair. I give him three sandwiches. He used to drink a foiled tube feed, but today he prefers half a loaf of bread in the early morning. The good fruits of his new daytime activity. Meanwhile, his sister is playing at the table. She puts together an experiment and the smell of hobby glue permeates the house.
07:50. I'm putting the finishing touches on the lunch boxes. The bags for the day are further prepared. Important letters for school are quickly filled in and put in the bag. My son's communication button is spoken. He cannot tell in the circle without help.
08:00. I tell my daughter to really stop tinkering now. After some grumbling, she puts the craft supplies in a bag. She continues on the way with a lap table. We run to our wheelchair bus.
08:05. The wheelchair is secured, daughter is strapped in. We can go. It still feels like 'Thunderbirds are go…….'. We drive together towards Baarn, one village away.
08:15. We are at the school in Baarn. I take daughter to class, at 08:20 she runs to her teacher. Her brother waits patiently in the bus.
08:25. I get back in the wheelchair bus and take my son to his day care. The escort and his great friend are already waiting for him at the door. He completely revives at the thought of a beautiful, exciting day.
08:30. I drive home again. The shops are still closed, I maneuver around all other parents with children in cargo bikes.
08:50. I'm coming home. I quickly clean up the mess in the kitchen. A battlefield of bread crusts and mandarin peels disappears into the trash.
9:00 am. Success. I'm going to work for my copy agency. Time to get started. Working feels like therapy to me after a daily schedule like the one above.
At 14:00 I stop working. I drive to Baarn. At around 2:20 pm there is just a gap in the parking lot at the school.
I then leave at 2:30 PM with my daughter to pick up my son at his daytime activities.
14:45. We're too early. My daughter is still tinkering in the bus. I thank the inventor of the lap table, and think he deserved a ribbon.
15:00. We pick up big brother from his day care again. He beams and his best friend hugs him goodbye like only he can. As Waldorf and Statner they are in the day care. Nahumping about everything that happened.
15:20. Yes. Home again. Time to get to work. Sister wants to play outside with her friends. Son wants to watch Xite TV. I don't come up with anything other than cooking the food.
18:00. A quick job in the evening. Until about 22:00. Because sandwiches also have to be made for the next day.
22:30. The lights are really going out for me now. Tomorrow at 06:00 the alarm will go off again.
Pfoe, that's a pretty tight daily routine, with a lot of hectic especially in the morning. I have enormous respect for you Monique for putting this together every day!
