Hey, mamas. Talk to me about your morning routine. It seems that no matter what we try to do, getting out the door every morning with a toddler (and baby) in tow is a complete sh*t show.
Now I completely understand why a radio commercial (I forget the brand) asked, “Have you had a morning before your morning?” Yes. Oh my god, yes. I get it now.
To be fair, I usually get to sneak out while the crazy is happening and let my husband bring the show to an end, as he’s responsible for daycare drop-off. However, his schedule is jacked so I was in charge of both drop-off and pick-up one week, all the while trying to find a new routine after returning to work from maternity leave and playing catch up. (I love my job and team, but a lot happens in 12 weeks! Especially when you’re helping to lead a high performance marketing org.)
Back to the morning sh*t show. I’d wake up around 5 or so to nurse our son. Thankfully he’s pretty chill and easy going, as long as he’s not hungry. Then, I’d attempt to get our almost-3-year-old up, but, since she refuses to go to bed on time, she would fight me tooth, hand and nail to do anything.
Getting up. Screams. Brushing teeth. Whining. Going potty. Refusal. Getting dressed. Screams. (Usual mad that she can’t wear pajamas to school.) Breakfast. Shreaks. It was exhausting.
I’d usually get out the door about 7:20 (10 minutes late) and have to battle the older one about who got dropped off first. If I suggested she goes first, screams.
“I want to drop off brudder.” (F*ck she’s cute.) So what could have taken 5 minutes turns into a 20 minute adventure. Adventure being the operative word because she would insist on taking the scenic route… and w a l k a s s l o o o o w l y a s p o s s i b l e.
I just wanted to get to work and finally start my day. I’d settle in around 8:15 and get through a tenth of my inbox before meeting marathon began.
I’d easily spend 10-12 hours a day tackling team roadblocks, aligning priorities or connecting the dots to determine a path forward, but had to pause at 5 to pick up the kiddos, make dinner, baths and bedtime… by which time the hubs might finally be home.
Those five days felt like an entire month. A month in which I gave myself mad props for only breaking down and crying once (at work). My neighbor is a saint, and saved me by reminding me that I am enough. And to give myself a f*cking break. (Love you, Susan!)
How do other working moms do it? Am I naive to think I can actually continue doing a job I love without short-changing my family or disappointing the higher ups?
I’d love to hear your thoughts!