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It?s 7:54 a.m., and we have six minutes to leave the house before we?re doomed to be late for school?again. The clock is ticking down like we?re on an episode of 24. My eight-year-old son, Pierce, is lying on the floor, his pants soaked with the orange juice he knocked over while stealing his sister?s waffle. Ten-year-old Marley is still wearing pyjamas, and her hair looks like a rat?s nest.
I?ve (calmly) asked them both to change and brush their teeth and hair at least four times. Instead, they?ve performed an impromptu dance routine with the hamster, placed their foreheads against the radiator to convince me they have fevers and argued with each other over every little thing.
My last ounce of patience drains as they make fish faces in the bathroom mirror, ignoring their toothbrushes. The clock ticks closer to our inevitable lateness. Even Jack Bauer doesn?t cut it this close. They giggle, and I lose it. ?I said now!? I scream. Their bodies become rigid. Their eyes look frightened and hurt as they rush to do the things I asked. A pang of guilt stabs my chest. We drive to school in silence, each of us brooding over perceived injustices. As we hug one another goodbye, I apologize for being cranky and squeeze them a little tighter, feeling horrible about having lost control. We?ve all been there. Bad mornings happen, and they leave us feeling guilty, angry and frustrated. Calgary author of Parenting With Patience Judy Arnall says these crappy feelings ca...