This morning, I found humor in a scene that unfolded outside the school. A first grader, clearly late, was stumbling toward the entrance, her bike wobbling precariously. “Hurry up!” her mother urged. “The bell just rang!” They moved in an all-too-familiar rhythm, as I was finishing my own chaotic morning dance, having just shoved my five-year-old son, Oliver, into his kindergarten class seconds before.
As I walked past the bike-rack disaster, I heard the unmistakable crash. In her rush, the little girl had sent her bike barreling into a neat row of colorful handlebars and princess helmets, causing them to topple over like dominoes. The last bike landed at the feet of a bewildered father, and I couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
I laughed not out of malice but because, let’s be honest, mornings can be a nightmare. I feel you, ponytailed warrior. If I had a bike and a crown-shaped helmet, I’d probably toss them into the bike rack too in a glorious act of rebellion against a world that moves too fast and expects too much from tiny humans. My own mornings are filled with my son’s pleas of “Just a minute more to stretch” or “Look at this LEGO ship!” every single day.
My husband and I are stuck in a constant battle over our ineffective morning routine. “We need a better system!” I hiss at him while wrestling a shirt over Oliver’s head and guiding him to brush his teeth. We even consulted a parenting coach who suggested we find what motivates him. Spoiler alert: sticker charts are useless when your five-year-old is determined to drain every last drop of toothpaste onto his brush. And don’t get me started on the clock!
From potty breaks to finding shoes, the morning checklist feels endless: pants, shirts, socks, breakfast battles, and then there’s cleaning up the breakfast mess. It’s a miracle if we manage to get out the door on time. On days when I skip a shower or makeup, the chaos escalates. We always seem to be out of time, patience, and fresh ideas that look good in parenting magazines. If I could, I’d hurl my coffee cup at something, but I need it too much to make that sacrifice.
We’re trying to raise our kids to be responsible, time-aware citizens, but mornings? They’re a different story. This isn’t a guide on how to improve your mornings; it’s an invitation to join the “We’re Glad You Made It” club.
Mornings are universally tough. So, to the parking lot attendant, instead of scolding us with “The bell just rang! Hurry up!” how about this: “Good morning! I’m glad you made it!”
Imagine that—greeting the frazzled mom with a wet ponytail, the first grader who just dumped her bike, or the five-year-old with wild bedhead sliding through the classroom door at 8:34 AM. We see you trying hard, and we’re all in this together.
As parents, we often find ourselves counting the minutes between breaths as we tuck our kids in at night, savoring those calm, still moments. We reflect on how quickly time passes and how we wish to hold onto every second.
So let’s take it easy in the mornings. Our kids have the rest of their lives to feel the pressure of time management. Mornings are for making memories, and if I could play with LEGOs or throw a bike into a rack in front of the principal, I would.
Let’s celebrate just showing up. Tomorrow, if your daughter drops her backpack in a puddle or my son stops to pick up every stick on the playground, let’s share a knowing smile and a laugh. We can rush later—today, we’re just glad we made it.
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