Now that doesn’t seem a big deal for everyone, except moms of school going toddlers, which unfortunately includes me. At 9 a.m after packing elder one to school, my next mission is to wake my four year old up, take her to shooo-shoool (aka pee), give her blue toothbrush with paste and a step-stool so that she can stand up on it, to see the bathroom mirror.
Yes, mirrors fascinate my both children. Now that is something, which they HAVEN’T inherited from me. Their dad is notorious for his mirror obsession. In lifts, in parking slots (side mirrors of cars), inside the car (rear view mirror), even in hospital bathrooms. I remember that when I was two months pregnant, I got admitted to hospital for Hyperemesis (over-vomiting which eventually leads to severe dehydration). They put IV lines into my both hands, one for glucose and another for medicine. And then they asked me to give a urine sample.
Now we all know it is not feasible with needles inside your two hands. So the nurse asked the by-stander (of course who else, except my dear husband) to help me with the procedure.
The good man came with me to the toilet, holding my hands. And guess what, when it was time to collect my urine sample, I saw my darling husband grooming in front of the bathroom mirror. I waited, I asked, I requested, and finally, I screamed. But he helped me, ONLY after he was satisfied with his reflection in the mirror. When the nurse asked the reason for the delay, I had to tell her my husband was washing his hands. But I told the truth to my mom-in-law and sister-in-law causing mass laughter in the house.
So, with this in mind, I wasn’t surprised when my four-year-old girl spent, six whole minutes in front of the mirror. She is fiercely independent that she will never allow me to check if she brushed well. I have to wait patiently, asking her “shall I help you?” ten thousand times, till she makes up her mind. And finally, when she makes up her mind, I will be running late for her daycare. After my ‘brushing-check’, then it is my turn to shout and rush to get her dressed in uniform.
Then comes my next challenge. The moment she sees her white t-shirt and red jumper, wailing starts.
“I don’t want to go to school.”
“Don’t you want to see Katie?”
“Don’t you want to see Kimmie?”
“Don’t you want to see Denise?”
*** now these are the name of her teachers ***
By this time, I will be forced to change my tone from request to scary.
Taking my phone, I switch to ‘monster-mode.’
“Shall I call Denise and tell that you don’t want to come to school?”
***now tears start to come. My rebel is scared of her teachers, too ***
By then somehow I managed to dress her despite her physical fight against it. Now comes breakfast. That also becomes another war-zone between us.
By then I will be literally sweating with outside temperature at two deg C. I put a jacket over my pyjamas and with her jacket and run towards the door and then into the car.
Once I am back, my me-time starts. Even my bed-coffee had become cold-coffee now. Now I don’t have to run up and down, till half-past one. Yes, that’s when I have to pick my elder girl from school.
In the meantime, I have to make a superfast cleaning of toys scattered on the floor, pick dried sausages and biscuit crumbs stuck between the couch, find out a missing pair of socks under the bed, etc.
I also have to wash the dirty dishes and cook rice and make a ham sandwich in case my elder’s choice changes. Then I get dressed and drive to school. If I am 5 minutes late, I will get a call from school which result in infinite apologies from my side to her class teacher.
So, in short, this is a part of our daily routine on school-days. Now on holidays, I have to deal with huge problems, including disaster-management, fight-management, boredom-management, and whose-program-should-be-on-tv management.
Now the last one is the one that makes me feel like crying because though we have two TVs, both girls want a tablet so that they can search on youtube on their own.
If you think that six and four-year-olds can type, I should blame google who came up with ‘voice-search’. They can search whatever they want by saying it into the google voice. And at this point fighting starts. Complaints, accusations, tears, even physical attack on each other starts at this point. ‘Taking turns’ is something my kids refuse to learn.
All this will be happening when I will be doing something important, and I have to turn into a referee. This will repeat umpteen times and takes me to the brim of being psychologically unstable.
Dinner is another problem. My elder has some ‘mental allergy’ towards fruits and vegetables. My younger has the same ‘hatred’ towards milk.
So my choices are very few. Still, I survive.
So, my dear friends, it starts from today. Midterm break – in my house me alone with two under-six sisters…
We will meet next week, with the midterm break incidents!