I’m a big believer in routine. Now that I have to take a child to school each weekday morning, my belief in routine is stronger than ever. If we don’t stick to the plan, we’re late. It’s that simple.
Today was one of those days when the routine was completely ruined. As per usual, child number one had to be taken to school. Child two, meanwhile, was spending the morning at nursery. Nothing unusual there, I regularly get them ready in the mornings and deposit them at different locations.
The routine, however, was doomed from the start as neither child was bathed last night. In addition to getting them up, dressed and fed, I had to factor in a bath for the baby and a shower for the eldest one. The baby complied perfectly with this wish but older sister did not want a shower and made my life awkward as she rebelled against the shower and then took forever and a day to get herself dressed.
After much cajoling, bribery and the odd telling off I managed to get big sister dropped off at school at the usual time. Little sister, to my amazement, was only ten minutes late for nursery. Although a success it was horrible because the whole experience had been stressful.
Today was an atypical example. It’s usually something much more mundane that throws the morning routine out of kilter. The other week my eldest daughter had misplaced her school shoes and this didn’t come to light until we were about to walk out the door.
After much searching they eventually turned up underneath the baby’s nappy changing unit. My daughter found this rather amusing. I had to see the funny side, but confess I didn’t find it as funny as she did.
Socks are the other one. They cause me so much trouble. Not my socks, I’ll just wear an odd pair if necessary, but the baby’s socks. She has a habit of pulling them off as soon as they’re on her feet. The result being that wherever we go, we often end up leaving a sock behind and our house is just packed full of odd socks.
On so many occasions I’ve got the eldest child ready and standing at the front door to leave. I go to collect the baby only to find a sock is missing. Do you know what the one thing I do not need to do at 8am in the morning? I’ll tell you; launch a major hunt for a missing sock while big sister makes perfectly clear she’s bored and starts rolling around on the floor in clean school uniform pretending to be a bunny rabbit.
Despite the odd hiccup, I am getting better at this routine thing. The only thing is, as my kids get older I have a terrible feeling it’s only going to get harder, not easier.
I’d like to know of your experiences. Maybe you think I’m just a bit OCD? Maybe you can relate to this entirely and have lived through many a Missing Sock Saga? I’d also be fascinated to know; how on Earth do those of you with three, four, five kids do this every day?