Since school has gone into session our home is CHA-O-TIC.
I thought the start of school meant routines, schedules, drowsy children in the evenings.
As my grandpa would have said....
I THOUGHT WRONG!
I am going to be honest...
I am NOT going to win mother-of-the-year.
In fact, I am quite certain I am not even allowed (according to my four-year-old) to be a contestant.
Let me explain (all from today):
My little girls wanted to be enrolled in dance class. I started them at this small dance studio in a nearby town. For two weeks now I have schlepped child #4 and child #3 back and forth to their two classes. They love these classes! They can't wait for these classes. They even dress in cute little dance outfits for these classes. This evening after said class daughter number four said,
Audrey: "Mom I thought you said you were going to sign me up for dance class?"
Me: "Um...we were just at dance Audrey."
Audrey: "Mom, when are you going to take us to REAL dance classes? You know with a real dance teacher! This class is NOT a real dance class. A real dance teacher has to wear real dancing clothes and she has to dance...FOR-REAL!!"
Dance class. F
I have learned that lists seems to work well in our house. I am certain I have mentioned this several times. The kids have a morning routine list and an after school routine list.
The LIST is supposed to take the place of my nagging. A typical list in the morning looks like this:
Put on Shoes.
I feel like the list is pretty all-inclusive for the morning. For the most part I leave them alone as long as they appear to be making progress on this list. This morning when it was time to leave for the bus, #2 wasn't ready to go. Apparently he couldn't find his shoes to put them on. (He left them outside by the trampoline yesterday afternoon).
"Mom, I was going to put my shoes on but I couldn't find them...you should put 'find shoes' on the list and then I would have been ready."
List creating: F
Let me translate:
Its all one not-very-fun-period-of-time in our house.
Whining. Pleading. Yelling.
And those are my behaviors.
Add the kids to the mess and you get: Pushing. Swiping. Poking. Scratching.
When I walk up the stairs now in the evening during this super-stressful period of time Abbey likes to ask,
"Mom, are you turning into a witch yet?"
Calm & Peaceful evenings: F
I keep waiting for our 'routine' to fall into place.
For my charming children to return.
And for their crabby mother to disappear.
I think I read somewhere once that it takes 21 days to make a habit...perhaps it takes 21 days to build a routine?
That's the logic I am sticking with.