Morning Routine...

There are only so many moments where I feel I get the chance to really focus and connect with my boys. For most of the morning, while we're getting ready for school, there's so much silliness between them. It's mostly potty humor with "butts" and "pooping" being the main focus. They are little boys after all. I try to limit this because it's really easily escalated to running at top speed through our apartment. (I'm still processing The Scientist breaking his arm in this way; running through the house, not the potty talk. I was the cause of the fracture.) Somehow though, we are able to complete our routine in time for Monkey's bus.

I usually supervise, heavily mind you to keep on schedule, the getting ready of Monkey. He tends to sleep later which gives him less leniency with his time. Plus he's a little boy, and he hasn't quite trained his body to focus yet. Eat, get dressed, brush teeth, put on coat and backpack, head to bus stop. These are the steps to our morning. I walk with Monkey alone to the bus stop. The Scientist continues getting ready while we're gone.

As we walk, we sometimes hold hands. I don't check my phone. My undivided attention is his. Sometimes we see special birds. Sometimes there are questions that pop into his head. "Which one is our Christmas tree?" "Why did daddy put it there?" "Which one is a yard waste dumpster?" "Why is it green?" Sometimes I ask him questions about the night before. "How was gymnastics?" "What did you do last night?" "What was your favorite part?"

Most days he runs ahead to the corner. Every single time I get nervous. I wonder if he'll remember to stop at the corner? Once I catch up, he usually finds a game to play. When it snowed, he threw "snowballs" at me. This morning and yesterday morning, he wanted to break up the ice in the gutter. I usually stand and watch for the bus to turn onto the street at the end of the neighborhood. As soon as I see it, I tell him that his bus will be there soon. He always gets a little giddy when I tell him. This makes me sure of the fact that, while sometimes he is not motivated to go to school, once he's moving in that direction he enjoys himself.

As the bus pulls up in front of us, I offer him my hand. Partially, this is to make sure he doesn't run out too quickly. The other part, is because I don't know that he'll always let me take his hand. One morning he didn't want me to walk him to the door of the bus. It was bittersweet. Luckily, it only happened once. I give him the option now that he's done it once, "Do you want to do it yourself or do you want me to take you?" I now ask him daily as I offer my hand. I lean down so I can hear him better over the street noise. Every time, since that one time, he says, "I want you to take me." My heart melts. He still needs me. He still wants me. I walk him to the door and say "Good morning." to the bus driver, and "Bye Monkey." as he steps onto the bus. Then, I walk back to the curb. I can still feel the warmth of his little hand in my palm. I stand and wait. I watch to see if he'll remember to wave goodbye.

Most mornings, he does. I watch him put his seat belt on. Then, I see his little face, grinning widely, peering out the window. He waves to me. Again this feels bittersweet. He won't always look out the window smiling, waving. One morning we were fighting. I put my foot down and wouldn't let him take two different toys that each had many pieces to lose. He was angry with me. He wanted to take the pieces. He wanted to take both action figures. I wouldn't bend. There was no time for negotiations. Despite bus schedule regularity, I'm always anxious we'll be late. We never are. The walk that morning was tense. He was so angry. As we walked, he listed reasons why it was fine for him to do what he wanted. I tried to explain why it was not. We did the routine.

I told him when I first saw his bus. As it pulled up, I offered my him my hand, he took it. Now, I recall this was the morning he wanted to walk to the bus himself from the curb. His being angry with me pushed him to grow a little. I gave him his space. I supervised him from the curb. I watched him put on his seat belt. He turned his head to look out the window. He was smiling! I was surprised. He was just so angry with me. I watched his eyes as he remembered he was angry. He tried so hard to change his smile to a frowning, pouting face. That morning, like some other mornings, the bus driver took a little longer to pull away. That morning, like the other mornings, I was grateful for those precious extra seconds. In that time, he couldn't turn his smile into a frown. He began to laugh and smile again. He waved in a sort of silly resignation and turned forward as the bus pulled away.

It was over. He was fine. We were fine. In the mornings, after his bus pulls away I feel light as I walk back to the house. He's five already. He rides a bus to school. He still needs me and misses me while he's gone. Sure I enjoy the time during the day when the boys are away. I also miss my time with them as a stay at home mom. We need time away from one another though. It makes those times together that much more special. I've been so lucky to stay home with them those first few years when they develop so much socially and emotionally. I 'm so lucky to get those few precious minutes of just he and I in the morning when he's so confident and happy to move forward in his day. It makes me feel as if I'm made of air and light.