Jason hates the symphony. I've only successfully drug him there once in ten years, and I think the only reason he conceded was because his dentist was unavailable to give him a root canal. But oh well, to each his own. I'm sure when I am talking and questioning my way through a basketball game, he wishes I hated it, so he could be there with someone who knows what "playing the zone" means.
As I was going through our morning routine today, I realized that parents are a little bit like symphony conductors or basketball coaches. On any given day you have to organize and time multiple events, duties, responsibilities and tasks just right so that everyone gets where they need to be when they need to be there, so your family can function properly. Do they have Grammy or Naismith awards for that?
Our daily routine isn't really a show, but if you mess with it, it definitely is a scene. Just as a violin out of tune may deafen ears, and the top defensive player fouling out of a tied game frustrates coaches and fans alike- one blip in The Patterson Daily Show, and we're sunk.
Our daily routine actually starts the day before, with making lunches and packing bags. When the alarm goes off the next day at 5:50am, Jason gets in the shower first and I spend eight minutes wishing it were Saturday, and two hauling myself from the warm cozy cove I've buried in my sheets. Jason and I have a brief eyes half shut "good-morning-I-love-you-how-did-you-sleep-I'm-so-tired" conversation in the bathroom, and then I begin my routine.
Before Jason leaves for the 6:25am train, he takes Norah out and gets her bed situated for where she sleeps while we are gone during the day. I have myself ready by 6:40am and go downstairs to get the things done that are more difficult to do once Marin is awake. I line and load our bags on the counter, get my keys out and ready so I don't have to dig from them with a baby in my arms, and make sure I don't forget my lunch. Then I put water on for some tea, and take Norah out again. When she's done, I come back inside pour the water for my tea, and make Marin's bottle and dig out a bib. At 7:00am I head upstairs for the best part of my day- waking up Marin. Most days she wakes up easily and smiley from the get go. She snuggles easily during our morning hug and jabbers as I get her dressed and ask her about her dreams. At 7:09 we are back downstairs where I immediately put on her bib and give her the "baba" that she has inevitably been asking for, for the past 5 minutes. I put her in her high chair, and then grab all of our bags and head out to load and start the car. When I do this, Norah goes crazy because she thinks that we are either going for a ride, or leaving for the day, meaning she gets a treat. I'm back inside in about a minute, when I scoop up Marin and hold her and nuzzle in her neck for about two minutes while she finishes her bottle. At 7:17am, I throw the bottle in the sink, take off her bib, load her in her snow suit and car seat, turn out the lights, grab my house keys, corral Norah to her allowed space, gate her in, and head out the door. At 7:20am, we leave the house and head to Ms. Kathy's.
Kathy "opens" at 7:30am. I drop Marin off at about 7:26am. I'm hoping that Kathy thinks my clock is a few minutes fast, and forgives the oversight of her last four minutes of peace and quiet. So far, she isn't on to me. I leave Kathy's at about 7:30am, and floor it back to our house, where I park the car back in the garage, and walk to the train. The train comes (and leaves) at 7:49am sharp. I get there at 7:48am. They won't wait for you if you are standing in front of the train with the doors closed, and its not like the el where you can throw your arm in and it will automatically reopen. They also don't like when you sprint up the train and bang on the doors for them to open. I have tried all of these, and missed the train as many times and then some. The next train doesn't come for another 27 minutes.
This is why I feel I deserve the Grammy for "superior conducting of a family". Alone, none of these tasks are difficult. But when thrown all together in the span of 1 1/2 hours, it is feels nothing short of a perfect concerto. If Norah feels self conscious of the pretty fluffy dog across the street watching her do her business in the yard (poor thing) and takes a minute longer than normal- late. If Marin and I get lost in our snuggles and lose track of time- late. If we get stuck behind a school bus on the way to Kathy's (why do they stop every 10 feet? Can't kids walk to the corner anymore?!)- late. If our ancient garage door opener acts up and takes longer than normal to close- late.
My parents pick Marin up on Mondays and Wednesday, because even considering we take the express train home, we still don't get home until 6:00pm and Marin needs to be picked up from Kathy's by 5:30pm. Jason leaves early and picks Marin up on Thursdays and I do the same on Fridays. We're usually all home and playing dance party by 6:30pm, followed by dinner, bath and bedtime for Marin, and at 7:40pm, we're cleaning up and making the next days lunches so the whole routine can start again.
Our life may not always have the melodic flow of the symphony, or enough wins to be cheering during March Madness, but our routine works. And as a reward, at the end of every week, there is a Saturday. A whole day devoid of schedules and trains. A whole day of playing, dancing, exploring and nuzzling. That is Grammy enough for me.
1 comment:
LOVE it! So true
PS- the bus stopping every few feet is really annoying now- I also remember from when I had to work and every second counted. BUT now that Jacks bus stops 5 times on our short block and our house is one of those stops, you will hear no complaints from me:). Hopefully you will be rewarded for all the traffic you encounter now with your own bus stop when its Marins turn for school:).
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