the joy of reveille
School starts in less than a week and although returning to some semblance of a routine appeals to me, there is one thing I am not looking forward to...getting two teenagers, both teeming with testosterone, out of bed in time for them to arrive at Provo High by 7:30AM.
I am one of those unfortunate mothers cursed by the mixed-up-genes fates, who I imagine take great delight in my situation. First Son, the grumpy one, can't get out of bed (even after knock down drag out battles with his mother) and--being the budding metrosexual he is--requires an exact and exorbitant amount of time in the shower, grooming his hair, chewing his french toast and then brushing his teeth and gargling mouthwash for the requisite 2 minutes! Second Son--the previously (till the hormones took over) cheerful one--can get out of bed and in and out of the shower in a flash and be out the door somewhere between zero and ten minutes, not caring at all about the end results. Of course any other genetic balance of these three traits--disposition, ability to get out of bed, and attention to grooming detail--would've worked better in my favor. To quote Snoopy (or was it Charlie Brown?), as I am often wont to do, "ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!"
I frequently remind my husband that getting four--yes, I only have four--children out the door in the morning is like cramming in an eight-hour work day in between the hours of 6:00 and 8:30 a.m. I have a lovely ritual when it's all over, however. I calmly shut the door, fasten the dead-bolt, then--depending on what kind of morning it has been--either let out a long and luxurious sigh as I slide down against the back of the door to the floor, or let out an ear-crushing primal scream. Either makes me feel much better.
I am one of those unfortunate mothers cursed by the mixed-up-genes fates, who I imagine take great delight in my situation. First Son, the grumpy one, can't get out of bed (even after knock down drag out battles with his mother) and--being the budding metrosexual he is--requires an exact and exorbitant amount of time in the shower, grooming his hair, chewing his french toast and then brushing his teeth and gargling mouthwash for the requisite 2 minutes! Second Son--the previously (till the hormones took over) cheerful one--can get out of bed and in and out of the shower in a flash and be out the door somewhere between zero and ten minutes, not caring at all about the end results. Of course any other genetic balance of these three traits--disposition, ability to get out of bed, and attention to grooming detail--would've worked better in my favor. To quote Snoopy (or was it Charlie Brown?), as I am often wont to do, "ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!"
I frequently remind my husband that getting four--yes, I only have four--children out the door in the morning is like cramming in an eight-hour work day in between the hours of 6:00 and 8:30 a.m. I have a lovely ritual when it's all over, however. I calmly shut the door, fasten the dead-bolt, then--depending on what kind of morning it has been--either let out a long and luxurious sigh as I slide down against the back of the door to the floor, or let out an ear-crushing primal scream. Either makes me feel much better.
Comments
marlsven- the francis gym is now requiring student ID for admittance. (I really just want to see that picture that I'm sure is very attractive.) Looking forward to your next visit!
As for your budding metrosexual, do you know where the hot water shutoff valve is? Tell First Son that, unless he wants to try his hand at being a high tenor in the shower, he has 10 minutes until the water runs cold. Of course, you run the risk of his seeking revenge, but it might be worth it.
I don't really know why they do pictures so early. It's pretty stupid. I see my picture later and I think of how young and babyish I look. That doesn't have much to do with pictures being done earlier, but I thought I'd just mention it.
You're doing great. Keep up the good work.
Love,
Mom