As I dropped my youngest child off at school Friday, I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I had just worked from 5 am-7 am, tag teamed with my fiance to cook a quick breakfast for the children, then began the two-hour process better known as morning drop-offs. I drop my oldest son off at school, then return to get the younger two off to school. The children attend school in the district in which my ex-husband lives and refusing to live in the same city in which he resides and is a police sergeant has its consequences.
While my oldest son and I headed to his high school, the conversation was easy and enjoyable. We talked about how goofy computer graphics were in older movies. He even got a "rise" out of me when he described some "really old movies from the '80s," as I defended that I wasn't really old, just kinda old. Once I dropped him off, I texted my fiance to let him know I needed the other two ready to go as soon as I pulled up, to which he informed my daughter and youngest son. We've been doing this kind of drop-off to their schools since they began schooling in that district in the fall of 2018. Our routine is one which should be fine-tuned, to say the least. We should be pros at this. Yet somehow, every morning it seems someone doesn't quite know what it looks like to get ready for school.
I let my fiance know I was a couple of minutes away, then as I arrived he texted me and let me know he saw my car. As I sat waiting for two little people to descend our apartment stairs my frustration grew. I knew there was no point in texting or calling since my fiance already acknowledged I was in the parking lot, so as time passed and rush hour began to pick up, so did my aggravation. How have we been doing this for five years yet you would never know it? How can it be that what I tell the children is important comes off as unimportant? Finally, after what felt like an eternity, which, in reality, had only been five minutes, they came out to the car. Once they entered the car, I gave them "a piece of my mind."
My daughter has a habit of waking up early in the morning, as in before 5 am. Her preference is to wake up around 3:30 am however I don't allow that. She has told me she studies better in the morning, which I understand because I've been that way in the past. Once you've been at school all day, sometimes a hard reset is needed. However my daughter also doesn't manage her time well so what could be an advantage to being up before everyone else, having the bathroom to herself, and plenty of time to slowly wake up somehow turns into her being the last one out of the door. And it's not like I don't remind her of the time, remind her the night before to get as much ready for the next day as possible-it's just that she wants to do everything her way. Not uncommon for a preteen, however certainly frustrating for any parent.
My oldest son has struggled this year to be timely yet he also has had a lot more homework than ever before so he doesn't get as much sleep as I would think his growing body needs. He does get out the door in a timely fashion most days. My youngest son tends to be on time, however, he gets easily distracted and finds himself just "walking around" having accomplished little in a long stretch of time. He's not only told me this about himself, but I've observed it as well. He doesn't get up as early as his sister yet somehow even with his distracted morning he gets out of the door almost on time.
Our morning routine is pretty routine: wake up, eat breakfast, get dressed, pack lunch, get things ready for school, and get in the car. However, in the past two years, it seems like this routine gets less "routine" and more chaotic. As the children have gotten older, allowing them to make more choices and have more autonomy has been the natural progression, however, with the progression comes friction.
As my daughter entered middle school, her outward appearance continues to be the center of her world. How her hair looks, what clothes she's wearing, and the most recent allowance in her appearance-makeup-are constant discussions and a regular part of her regimen. And although I fully expected her to dig deeper into these almost "rites of passage" of adolescence, I did not expect to feel more and more out of control of my kids.
Aside from the controlling environment under which we suffered while I was still married to their father, I have tried to maintain a pretty strict set of rules within my home as well as clear expectations of not only behaviors in our home but also values. Of course, I cannot force my children to believe anything, however, I do believe it's my responsibility to instill values that I believe will create amazing little humans.
Responsibility and accountability are two values that are discussed heavily in our home, especially as two of my kids are in their teenage years and are growing closer and closer to being on their own. Knowing this, I am often obsessed with ensuring they have the best start they can get, and responsibility and accountability are two pillars on which I build. As you can imagine, I don't think the kids are as obsessed with these two values as I am.
In the past two or three years, even after surviving the craziness that accompanied the pandemic, I've noticed my sons and daughter listening less and less to my voice and more to everything else: friends, media, themselves, and each other. I feel like my impact on them, whether perceived or actual, is less and less. I notice I feel like a broken record of what I consider to be basic concepts in our home. Our morning routine was just the straw that broke the camel's back that Friday as I sat in my car, tears pouring down after dropping the kids off for school and essentially their father's week of custody.
Days earlier I let the kids know things needed to improve in our home. They were giving me the laundry list of things they wanted to do with their upcoming weekend, which included birthday parties for friends, clothes they wanted to buy, games they wanted to play, restaurants they wanted to try, and summer plans; their list grew and grew. And all I could think was, Man, the things you all want to accomplish are many yet I can't get you guys to stick to the chore list for the week consistently; I can't seem to convince you guys to follow expectations of bedtime routines; I struggle to get you to be respectful to each other especially when I've had a long and trying week; the things I explain as needed in our home are filed under "optional" and all the things you want to do are filed under "mandate." We are turned around.
As the tears finally spilled over the rims of my eyes, I felt as if I was crying for a multitude of reasons: the past three years of financial difficulty; working on my mental health while learning how to be there for one of my kids who has sought help for some difficulties they are facing; the dysfunction of my "co-parenting" relationship with the children's father and not having any way of reflecting true co-parenting; sleep deprivation; the ongoing health concern of being diabetic; needing more exercise; wanting to provide more for my kids in the way of lifestyle/home life; feeling inadequate or insufficient for this ginormous job of parenting. It was so much more than getting out the door on time. That was just the catalyst that sprang me into a meltdown in my car as I drove to the gas station to fill up my car.
I was crying because life has not been easy for anyone in a while, and I was feeling the full force of it. The pandemic really disrupted a lot of people's lives and ours was no different. After leaving teaching during the pandemic, I found myself working remotely for the first time, and although I love working remotely and the flexibility it provides, I also find myself being more of a recluse than I have been in years (especially after leaving my isolating, abusive marriage) and experiencing heightened levels of anxiety, especially social anxiety. The pandemic seemed to clarify some friendships and family relationships which I had come to realize were only important to one of us: me. The pandemic hurt many of my friends and family financially, so finding the ability to help others who I knew were in more of a difficult situation than myself became difficult as my own financial situation was less and less stable.
Then to move on to the emotional stuff-I was already in a deficit before I got to the emotional side of things! My kids, family, friends, my partner, myself-everyone seemed to be suffering emotionally, mentally, and/or spiritually to some degree or another. And wanting to support my loved ones left me empty sometimes. I wouldn't change the decision to help, I would change how I cared for myself. I can't give what I don't have. Or at least I can't give it for very long anyway.
I will never be ashamed of having a good cry, hell I've learned over the years that a good cry can be healing in and of itself. There's something about a good cry that cleanses us. And I welcome it, I encourage it with those I've been in conversation with over hard things. Yet I did feel silly for crying over what I assumed was a messy morning routine. Then, as I arrived at my gas station destination I realized I wasn't crying because of the messy morning routine, which almost made us late (thank goodness there weren't any slowdowns on the highway like a wreck or construction).
I realized I was crying because I felt like I didn't have it all together.
I was crying because at this point in the game, having been a parent for 15 years, having been an educator, running a nursery at a homeless shelter, and a volunteer to some amazing organizations serving youth in my community-how is it that I have such a loose grip on my life and parenting that I can't get my kids out the door on time? Like really? What blog post can I write to encourage others when my world isn't perfectly reflecting what I preach?
That's when it hit me: I'm striving for something that doesn't exist. Perfection. Having it all together. Looking the part and playing the part. Although it sounds good, it's not real, it's a misnomer.
My mind played images of those who seemed to have it all together yet time revealed the falsehood of those images: those who posted about their partners and how loving they were just to be killed by them; those who had the most popping and engaging social media yet took their own lives; those who regularly put themselves into the spotlight just to calm their nerves with an addictive substance.
Who exactly has it all together? Where are these people so I can have what they're having for dinner? So I can study their techniques and perfect mine. But they don't exist. I won't find them because they aren't there. NO ONE HAS IT ALL TOGETHER!
We are taught to believe that we should have it all together, or that is the ultimate goal, but we are striving for an existence that doesn't actually exist. There is no utopia, there is no nirvana, and there is no perfection. It's a facade. What does exist is work. What does exist is effort. What does exist is progress.
I sobbed in that car listening to a song on repeat by one of my favorite new artists, The Paper Kites' "Walk Above The City." (The Paper Kites, 2021) This song seemed to perfectly fit my mood as it has these ethereal tones which uplifted me in the most surreal way.
Some of the lyrics which struck me:
Bright lights and tired streets/We could get away No time to even speak/Nothing to say No rain or storms above/That could make us stay Let's walk above the city/You and I
Flowers underneath us now/Towers underneath us now We walk above the city/You and I
And we're breathing more/Than we ever have before And it goes ooh, ooh-ooh
This song depicts a beauty that transcends what's happening around the listener. It speaks to the lightness of being in a different place, and that resonated with an elevated sense of freedom I experienced while I let go of the idea that I'll get it together one day.
No, I won't have it all together one day. I won't be perfect. I won't always know the exact thing to say at the exact right time. I won't always have the answers.
What I will have is growth and evolution, improvement of self, and my understanding of this sometimes complicated and painful life.
It's obtainable and realistic. And it's mine, and yours, if we want it.