Rush Hour

Much like on the city streets, rush hour in our household takes place twice a day: 8am and 6pm. Getting out the door in the morning is even more stressful now that Big A is in school because she absolutely has to be there by 8:45am. The last thing I need is her new school thinking I'm a delinquent parent because I can't get her there in time. But this morning we cut it as close as it gets. The morning started off great. Big A woke up at 7:15am and Little A at 7:20am. I actually was able to shower, get dressed and finish my coffee before Big A came downstairs. Big A was also in a good mood. I thought it was a sure sign of a great day ahead. Unfortunately, Little A was in a strange mood. She was clingy and obsessed with nursing. I couldn't distract her or comfort her in any other way. So I spend most of the morning on the couch with her on the breast. This meant I was really behind getting out the door. At 8:20am I finally got Little A to stop nursing and I called out to Big A who was in her room playing. She had promised she would come down when I told her it was time to leave. But she was not ready to stop playing. After much screaming and many threats on my part, she finally came downstairs at which point we battled over brushing her teeth and putting on her shoes. It was so late at this point and I was so stressed out, I let Little A bring "Pink Bear", her beloved stuffy with her. Once we got out the door with Little A in the stroller and Big A on her bicycle, it began raining. But Big A insisted she ride anyways. I got her to her classroom at 8:45am on the nose.

In the evenings, the pressure is on too. Most of it comes from Little A, who, unlike her sister who usually eats a massive four course breakfast, barely eats in the morning and is, instead, starving for dinner. The minute she sees me making her supper, she runs over to her booster chair and starts screaming. Even if the dinner takes just 10 minutes, she will howl until it's ready. Trying to feed her a quick snack while dinner cooks doesn't work. No matter how hungry she is, she will only eat what she's in the mood for, and it always seems to be whatever is not ready yet. Big A, on the other hand, has to be dragged to the dinner table and then picks at her food. Little A sometimes finishes her meal for her, especially if I've made scrambled eggs or meatballs, which are her favorites.

I am trying to accept the fact that these will never be relaxing times of day for, probably, many more years and 8pm, when the kids go to bed, will continue to be the hour I look forward to when Adam and I can finally relax and have a little time alone together. Then again, I bet once they are grown up and out of the house I'll miss the noise, chaos and excitement at least a little bit...