Don’t sweat the small stuff… Don’t sweat the small stuff… Don’t sweat the small stuff

My mornings suck.  And by suck, I mean they suck great big hairy sweaty balls kinda suck.  First there’s the waking up in dopey state but ever so aware of the fact that I’m in pain… still.  Then there’s the monumental effort it takes to get out of fucking bed when all I want to do is crawl up in a ball and forget about the world.  The first thing I do is splash cold water on my face to try and feel something other than pain, even if it is just a quick dose of ‘mumble fucking cold water in the face’.  Then I have my ‘wake up and shake off the drug induced coma’ drugs.  Then force myself to have some very chewy muesli so that my jaw is forced to work which forces me to unclench my teeth that I’ve had clamped tight all night in order to enable things like, Oh I dunno… speech.

And then there is the week day rituals of fighting with the Small Child to get him ready for school.  We go through the same thing EVERY SINGLE SCHOOL DAY.  

MONDAY
Do you have your school bag packed?  Yes
Do you have your diary?  Yes
Have you got your homework?  Didn’t have any
Your hat?   Yes
Packed your lunch?  Yes
Had some breakfast?  Yes
Have you got your swimming things? 
Yeah but I forgot to tell you I have a massive hole in my swimming shirt from last week and can’t wear it.
Oh  Ferfucksake!!!!
Race out the door asap to pop into K-Mart to pick up new sun protection swim shirt at the last minute.

TUESDAY:
Do you have your school bag packed?  Yes
Do you have your diary?  Yes
Have you got your homework? Don’t have any
Your hat? Yes
Packed your lunch? Yes
Had some breakfast? Yes
Ok go put on your shoes and let’s go.  Umm, where are my socks??
Oh  Ferfucksake!!!!
Fifteen minutes of hunting through the bomb site that is the Small Boy’s bedroom ensues looking for socks matching or otherwise.

WEDNESDAY:
Do you have your school bag?  Yes
Do you have your diary?  Yes
Have you got your homework?  Didn’t have any
Your hat?  Yes
Packed your lunch?  Yes
Had some breakfast?  Yes
Have you got your swimming things?  Yes
Ok go put on your shoes and lets go.
Drive to school and
Kiddo.. why is your swimming bag so small?   Ummm… I think I forgot my towel again.
Oh  Ferfucksake!!!!

THURSDAY:
Do you have your school bag packed?  Yes
Do you have your diary? Yes
Have you got your homework?  Yes, all done
Your hat?  Yes
Packed your lunch?  Yes
Had some breakfast?  Yes
Ok let’s go… go put on your shoes….
Approx 11am, ‘Hello this is the Small Child’s school, your son hasn’t bought his lunch with him (quick glance to kitchen reveals packed lunch box sitting neatly on counter) can you bring it up for him?
Oh  Ferfucksake!!!!

FRIDAY:
Do you have your school bag packed?  Yes
Do you have your diary? Yes
Have you got your homework? Didn’t have any
Your hat? Yes
Packed your lunch? Yes
Had some breakfast?   Errr, no.
Ok go put on your shoes and… oh you are kidding!  Go and eat some breakfast.
Oh  Ferfucksake!!!!

If it’s not forgotten socks, it’s shoes that can’t be found.  If it’s not a swimming towel that’s forgotten, it’s a library bag left behind.  If it’s not breakfast that’s uneaten, it’s junky snack food sneaked into the lunch box instead of fruit.  If it’s not a swim shirt with a massive hole in it, it’s a last minute request for a suitable box to make a diorama. If it’s not one stupid thing… it’s just something else.  Always.

So is it just me?  Am I expecting way too much of a Yr 3 child at 8 and a half years of age to take care of packing his school things himself?  He seems to remember just fine when he’s going to play at Grandma’s place to get all his swimming things, his DS, a charger, a stylus, a book, a DVD and other things to play with.  He seems able to remember on Tuesdays that he’s going to visit his little mates after school and has the recall to take whatever games and things he said he’d bring last week… 

My Mum probably used to do most of this shit for us and there were three of us to get ready, but I’m fairly confident she didn’t get out of bed every morning in so much pain she wishes she’d killed herself the night before instead of just knocking herself out with massive amounts of medication.   I’m just so sick of this angsty crap every school day and I am really sick of feeling like we start every day with me in a state of exasperation and him in a semi-permanent state of apology. 
.

2 thoughts on “Don’t sweat the small stuff… Don’t sweat the small stuff… Don’t sweat the small stuff

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