On weekends and during school breaks, my children are in fierce competition with the chirping birds to see who can wake up the earliest. The sun is barely rising before they leap out of bed, practically bouncing off the walls as if they had slept in energizing, caffeine-soaked sheets. The phrase “sleep in” is foreign to them unless it’s prefaced by “can we” and followed by “on the couch” or “inside a fort” — anywhere but their own beds.
However, come school mornings, that dazzling energy disappears entirely. Instead, they resemble sleeping beauties, sprawled out and drooling, their cheap mattresses transforming into irresistible sleeping clouds. I know that the next couple of minutes will be some of the most challenging of my day, and honestly, I absolutely dread this part.
Waking them up is difficult on so many levels. Early mornings are one of the rare times my home is peaceful, wrapped in silence. No one is arguing, whining, or glued to a beeping gadget. To disrupt that serene atmosphere — especially on purpose — feels deeply unnatural, like playing a kazoo during a concert or slapping paint on a classic masterpiece.
To make matters worse, I have spent countless hours since their infancy trying to keep them asleep (including tackling the mailman to prevent him from ringing the doorbell). I’ve hissed so many “shhh”s that I could fill a hot air balloon. So, to intentionally wake them feels like a betrayal of all those sleepless nights. That instinct to let them snooze peacefully doesn’t just disappear when they hit school age.
I start off gently, throwing open the curtains and letting the sunlight stream in, hoping they’ll rise as bright as the morning rays. “Good morning!” I sing cheerfully like a Disney princess. “Today is going to be amazing!” I stroke their arms and pat their backs, but in return, I’m met with utter stillness. They are bed-bound rocks.
So, I ramp up my approach, getting a bit louder and a touch more assertive; my gentle pats morph into pokes, my soft nudges into a firmer push. “Hey, time to wake up!” I say briskly. If I’m lucky, I might get a muffled groan, but usually, they just pull the covers over their heads as if that might make me disappear.
This only fuels my frustration, prompting the emergence of my “mean-mom voice,” which is an alarming mix of drill sergeant and villain: “GET! UP! NOW!” By the time their eyes flutter open, we’re both glaring at each other. I often contemplate whether bursting through their bedroom door like a cartoon character and scooping them out of bed would be frowned upon.
As if all this wasn’t enough, it’s a school morning, so I’m racing against the clock. If I can’t get them moving, dressed, and fed in time, it triggers a cascade of unpleasant events, kicking off with the dreaded task of having to put on a bra for the drop-off line. This fear pushes me to resolve to get them out of bed, no matter what. They will not miss that bus.
And so, five mornings a week, I face this struggle, knowing it’s a mutual ordeal for everyone involved. It never changes; they are consistently hard to wake up each school day. Yet, once they finally come around, they transform into decent little humans. And once my blood pressure stabilizes, we can dive into our morning routine. Smooth sailing—until they start complaining about breakfast options. But at least they’re dressed and ready to start their day by that point!
For more tips on navigating parenthood, check out our other blog posts, like this one on home insemination, or discover resources about pregnancy at the CDC. And if you’re looking for essential tools, consider visiting BabyMaker.
In summary, waking kids up for school is a daily challenge that every parent can relate to. With patience, persistence, and a touch of humor, mornings can transform from chaotic to manageable, even if breakfast selections sometimes lead to grumbling.