He didn’t have a fever. There was no vomit or strep throat or even a runny nose — none of the usual signals that my workday was about to go off the rails so I could be home with my kid. Why, then, would anyone in her right mind pay to send her child to a ridiculously expensive (and super fun) outdoor day camp, only to keep him home on a GORGEOUS Thursday with only a few days left of camp for the summer?
(a) She’s crazy, (b) it was a logical consequence of kid’s less than desirable behavior or (c) all of the above.
I blogged a few weeks ago about the challenges of our summer camp schedule and questioning my decision to put so much go-go-go in our summer routine, so that I can inch closer to finishing another book… someday. Well, Skywalker has adjusted somewhat to the intense schedule, spending all day outdoors, and even swimming twice daily. He is still very tired sometimes, but he’s making slow and steady improvements in tolerating his tiredness without falling asleep at the dinner table or turning into a puddle of radioactive slime at bedtime.
What has been more of a challenge so far is Skywalker’s ability to handle transitions in the morning: specifically, the transition from doing either anything that he wants, or nothing at all, to doing the things required to get us all out the door in time to catch the bus to camp. Contrary to what I’ve heard from other parents about this tough schedule, it is not hard to get Skywalker out of bed; in fact, he normally gets himself up earlier than necessary. Sometimes I think it would be easier if we had to wake him up ourselves, because maybe being sleepy would make him, if not cooperative, at least malleable.
The reality, however, has been that no matter how cheerful his mood when he awakes; no matter how many carrots, sticks, behavior modifying charts we employ; no matter whether we try a gradual approach or an abrupt one: the moment either Hubs or I ask Skywalker to get dressed, go to the bathroom, brush his teeth, etc., the response is a whiny tantrum that quickly escalates to three year old proportions: screaming, kicking, etc. Every single day. Which would be understandable, except that Skywalker is five. And it might even be workable, except that Kindergarten is looming in the less-than-a-month-away distance, and we don’t have the luxury (or honestly, the desire) to let a free-spirited five year old dictate our morning routine.
When I was an arrogant, snot-nosed counselor who did not have children but thought she understood parenting, it used to drive me crazy when people would come to my office and say they had “tried everything, but nothing works.” I hereby formally apologize to all of those people, because we are right there. I know I will get lots of great suggestions (and welcome) in the comments, and I will try them all within reason; but really, there isn’t much that we haven’t done in some way or another to try to make morning transitions easier for Skywalker (and, obviously, us — these morning blowouts every day are becoming a strain on the whole household).
I want to stop here and say that Skywalker is the most amazing, loving kid I have ever known — his brain works in a way that is almost magical. He surprises and delights me daily with the depth of his understanding of the world and the feelings he carries so close beneath an analytical exterior. In no way do I blame him, as a person, for the issues that we’re having in the mornings. For one thing, his stubborn refusal to bend to the will of others — or the clock — is an absolute hallmark of my family, going back generations on my Dad’s side (including me and I don’t always get away with it either). I also see clearly the correlation between his deep curiosity and absorption in the tasks he sets himself — building intricate webs of chain links all over the house, for example — and his annoyance at the outside world for intruding on his intellectual pursuits by expecting him to go places and wear pants. I have contributed to the problem, too, by reinforcing the power struggle and failing utterly to control my temper some days.
Still, the reality remains: the bus comes when it comes, and if you want to go to camp, you have to get on the bus.
Right? Or crazy?
I’ll be back tomorrow with my decision to keep him home from camp, and the results. In the meantime, I would love to know if any of you struggled with this with your kid and how you solved (or tried to solve) the problem.
To be continued….
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I’m M.J. (Manda) Pullen, an author and mom in the Atlanta, Georgia area. I blog about writing, publishing, motherhood, health, psychology and whatever else strikes me in the moment.
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Clothes get chosen the night before and placed on the dresser. He puts them on before he walks out of the room. He may not do anything until he gets dressed, except go to the potty. He does it first and them if he has time, he can play. If he refuses to eat breakfast, he’ll go hungry. You could also put him on the bus unbrushed and in pjs. He gets on the bus when it comes, with our without clothes, shoes, etc.
Great suggestions!
We have had him pick out his clothes the night before and put them on the dresser – sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn’t. We do need to do that more consistently. Part of our issue is that while we don’t “allow” him to do anything before he gets dressed, he often wakes up and starts playing or comes to hang out in our room before we even know he’s awake. When we discover this and tell him he needs to get dressed first… tantrum. Same goes for the days when he actually DOES get up and get ready — if there’s time to play or I let him turn on the TV while I get Fozzie ready, the tantrum comes when it’s time to leave. Breakfast is generally in the car (I’ve done everything I can to streamline the morning and minimize the chances for things to go awry), but I think putting him on the bus in his pajamas may be the next step.