This morning, I couldn’t help but chuckle at a first grader who accidentally toppled a row of bikes. She was rushing to school, walking her bike the final steps before parking it outside the principal’s office. “Hurry up!” her mother pleaded. “The bell just rang!” Their hurried footsteps echoed the familiar rhythm of a morning routine, while I was just wrapping up my own chaotic dance, finally ushering my five-year-old, Ethan, into his kindergarten classroom mere seconds before the bell rang.
In my rush, I had already passed Little Miss Tardy when I heard the commotion. Caught up in her frantic pace, she had carelessly tossed her bike into the neatly lined row of colorful handlebars and princess helmets. The bikes fell like dominos, and when the last one crashed (right at the feet of an equally stunned dad), I couldn’t help but laugh.
Not to shame her—though I may have annoyed her mom—but because mornings are universally tough. I empathize, young girl with the ponytail. If I had a bike and an Elsa helmet, I would likely fling them into the bike rack too—my silent protest against a world that demands too much too quickly, with little regard for five-year-olds who often exclaim, “I just need a little more time to stretch… oh look, a Lego ship!” Yep, that’s my daily reality.
Every morning, my partner, Jake, and I engage in a battle over the ineffective routine we’ve established. “We really need a better plan,” I insist, while pulling Ethan’s shirt over his head and guiding him to brush his teeth. We’ve even consulted a parenting coach. “Find what motivates him,” she advised in that tone experts often adopt, as if it were the simplest task in the world. We tried, but let me tell you: sticker charts are useless during morning chaos. Five-year-olds couldn’t care less about stickers when they are determined to squeeze every last bit of toothpaste out of the tube.
And then there’s the clock—an unforgiving reminder of how little time we have when we’re responsible for little humans. Potty breaks, underpants, pants, shirts, socks, and the inevitable “I can’t find my shoes” all add to the morning madness. Brushing teeth? Too much toothpaste or the wrong color. Hair styling? A source of tears and resistance. Breakfast? A delicate negotiation that often ends in spills and complaints. And all this is just for one child.
Every morning feels like a race against time. The kids move at a snail’s pace, while I shout like a frantic mom at the park, fearing for my child’s safety on the playground. Chaos reigns, and that’s on days when I don’t even have the luxury of a shower or makeup. We always end up pressed for time, patience, and any motivational strategies that might grace the pages of parenting magazines. If I had a bike to throw, I would—though I value my coffee too much to toss it away.
I understand that we’re raising our children to be responsible and aware of their impact on the world. There are countless articles on how to achieve that. This, however, is not one of them.
This piece is an open invitation to the “Glad You Made It” club. Mornings are tough. They’re tough for me, and they’re tough for you too. So, to the parking lot attendant who scolds us with, “The bell just rang! Hurry up!”—I propose a change.
On behalf of weary parents everywhere, I’d prefer you greet us with a warm, “Good morning! I’m glad you made it!”
Say “I’m glad you made it” when you see the mom with the damp ponytail struggling to get her baby out of the car seat while holding her kindergartner’s hand. Say it when the first grader throws her bike into the rack in frustration. “I’m glad you made it” for the five-year-old with messy hair who slides into the classroom just after the bell. Acknowledge the effort. Recognize the struggle.
We have plenty of time to feel guilty about how fast the minutes slip away. At night, when we tuck our children into bed and they finally find peace, we count the seconds between their breaths and the minutes before they drift off. We recount the years we can’t reclaim and the days filled with both gratitude and guilt.
Let’s not rush. Not yet. Our children will have their whole lives to feel the weight of responsibility and the pressure to keep pace. Mornings are challenging, and if I could pause and play with Legos on my way to the bathroom or toss my bike into a rack, you better believe I would.
Sometimes, we earn points just for showing up. So tomorrow, if your daughter drops her backpack in a puddle and my son pauses to collect sticks on the playground, I’ll catch your eye and share a laugh. We can hurry later. This morning, I’m just glad you made it.
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Summary:
Mornings can be chaotic and overwhelming for parents, filled with struggles to get children ready on time. This article reflects on the shared challenges of morning routines, emphasizing the importance of empathy and understanding among parents and caregivers. Instead of rushing, let’s acknowledge the effort it takes to simply make it through the morning.
Keyphrase: Morning parenting struggles
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