The Race

Although I blogged a few weeks ago about starting to like certain aspects of school, there are still times I struggle with the whole process. One of the things that I just can’t learn to enjoy is what I refer to as “the race.”

Since he’s in school for six hours every day, I would like to enjoy the time that we have together. I’d like to talk to him about his day, play games, take walks, and relax. Instead, we spend that time rushing to get everything done in a much abbreviated amount of time.

In the mornings, no matter how early we get up, I end his time at home barking out orders- “Get your shoes on your feet. Why aren’t your teeth brushed yet? For the 100th time, put your backpack on your back!” We choose clothes the night before. Breakfast is a set routine. We’ve been doing this for almost two months, and, still, he acts as if he’s never had to get ready in the morning before. We all end up frazzled and frustrated by the time he leaves for school, and that’s not what I want our mornings to be like.

By the time he gets home, we have an hour and a half before I need to start dinner. Usually, this is a great time to play, unless it’s Tuesday night, when he has one page of writing homework. One page should be quick and painless, but for a five-year-old who just sat in school all day, it’s number one on the “I’m not doing that” list. I have to prod, cajole, and threaten to get that one darn paper completed.

And technically, I should be working on his handwriting every evening. Honestly, I just can’t bring myself to do it. He’s got energy to burn when he gets home. He’s five- he needs to run, play, have fun, and be creative. He certainly doesn’t need to sit at the table and write his name ten times. What on earth are we going to do next year when he has spelling words, math homework, and book reports?

After the 90 minutes of playtime has flown by, the race toward bedtime begins. I have to make a filling and nutritious dinner for all four of us. We eat when my husband gets home from work. From that point on, the evening is about getting into bed at a reasonable time so we can get up and do it all over again tomorrow. “Finish your meal. Did you drink your milk? In the bathtub! No, we don’t have time to read more books- lights out!”

And then it’s over. Two angels sleeping peacefully and a mama who feels like I had no time during the day to spend with my oldest son- teaching, learning, growing, or having fun together. At least we’ve tried to keep the weekends stress-free and relaxing, but they go way too fast.