Lately, mornings have taken on a sinister tone. Picture this: rolling over to find a shadowy figure looming beside you, reminiscent of a horror film antagonist—yet, it’s just my middle child, a once-adorable 9-year-old girl who has transformed overnight.
This unsettling presence often emits groans, stomps around the house, and voices complaints like, “It’s still dark outside! The alarm clock is so rude! Mornings are the worst!” Believe me, I understand. Mornings can feel like a cruel joke. I, too, struggle to function; I could easily be mistaken for a lethargic sloth, particularly one that’s had a rough night. That’s why I try to tackle morning tasks—like organizing uniforms, backpacks, and lunches—the night before.
However, with three kids in the house, my plans for a smooth start often go awry. Recently, my sweet little girl has been testing my limits. Just last week, I was barely awake when my youngest, oblivious to an impromptu rule forbidding anyone from standing in the bathroom doorway while her sister was inside, ended up on the receiving end of a swift kick to the leg.
I sat there, half-asleep, witnessing this chaos unfold, unable to intervene. My youngest retaliated, collapsed in tears, and I, feeling utterly overwhelmed, retreated from the bathroom—shutting the door firmly behind me. (Let’s just not speak of that incident.)
Of course, the crying escalated, and my daughter’s wrath was unleashed. I attempted to slip away unnoticed, but she was relentless. Finally, I snapped, delivering a tongue-lashing that could rival an angry dragon.
In the aftermath, we were both furious. While I reached for my much-needed coffee, she swiped my phone, edited a picture of her and her sisters to remove her own face, and set it as my wallpaper. The message was clear: the sweet girl I knew had vanished, and I was suddenly the mother of just two.
Later, after school, she asked for my phone again. I handed it over, and she restored the original picture. Just like that, I was back in her good graces. We laughed together, both acknowledging how silly we had been that morning.
The very next day, it was as if I was starring in another horror scene—this time, her father was the target. We tried to ease the morning meltdowns by adjusting her bedtime, which helped a bit, but the rudeness persisted.
Then, last night, the source of the turmoil became apparent. My daughter excitedly called me into her room, exclaiming, “Mom! Smell my armpit; it’s ripe!” I braced myself, only to discover a scent reminiscent of a lamb kabob gone wrong. gag
So today, I’m contemplating a long getaway to Hawaii. Want to join me?
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In summary, the tween years can be a wild ride filled with unexpected chaos and challenges. Embracing the ups and downs while finding humor in the situation is key to surviving this stage of parenthood.