It recently came to my attention - aka I got in trouble by
the principal - that Daisy had 16 tardies to school in a quarter. I knew she was late because I was there, but I didn’t realize there were so many times.
For us, morning isn’t just a time of day; it's a journey with fire-breathing dragons and damsels in distress. The kids are still
adjusting to the divorce. Violet said recently, “I jus wanna be a reguwar
famwe.” I told her there’s no such thing as regular, and even if there was, we
are every bit as regular as the next family.
Violet is still struggling with the realization that there
have to be kindergartens in this world, and she only gets dinner with her mama
twice a week. Sometimes, morning is all we’ve got. I have decided I’d rather be
a few minutes late than scream at Violet until my eyeballs pop out of my head
while she curls up on the floor, civil disobedience style, refusing to get
dressed. When I'm dealing with Violet, Daisy pauses from fighting with
her sister just long enough to stand in as her defense attorney or counsel me
on my approach.
And that’s my cue to remind Daisy that she is the daughter
and therefore not responsible for defending or parenting her sister. I am all
about nipping that codependent tendency in the bud, and it brings out the wild-eyed
mother lectures, “You are the kid. Give it up! Hand it over! You are NOT
responsible for taking care of the family!”
On one tense morning, Daisy stormed out of the car when we
arrived to school, refusing to speak to me. Later, her teacher expressed concern
that she came to class so upset and unable to work. Overall, Daisy is doing
much better – academically and socially. We just haven’t mastered our morning
routine, and when I say we, I mean Violet. Which really means it’s all my
fault.
So I told the girls the principal is watching us and we are
in trouble, starting many a paranoid discussion of when the principal might be
able to see them and how. It’s helping – we’ve been getting to school on time.