Blessing of the morning
Morning should never be T.V. time. Waking rested, bright and full of life I loathe the idea of little spirits getting into the zone of passivity which television invites. Morning should be a joyful, creative, fun time where the family can play while getting ready for the day.
The kids have often played like cubs and engaged Daddy in a few minutes of shenanigans before he leaves for the day. But as Kate ages, it’s shifting. She doesn’t come immediately to our family fold. There are other things in the house which lour her.
We don’t have a T.V. in our bedroom, having long ago adopted the philosophy that bed should be for 2 things, neither of which involves a television. Bed is now also a family bed at times, but I will not listen to the demon whisper that the infamous box would answer all my morning juggling problems.
It’s hard to contain two year old energy. Rising before the sun, Michael loves to cuddle, chat about whatever comes into his mind and then get up and GO! Fortunately, our glass-like door knob has fallen off on one side allowing us to close the door without risking flight because Michael cannot open the door with the remaining stump where the glass-like knob fits. This contains him within eye and ear-shot, so we assume all we have to do is make sure that there are books or toys on hand which catch his fancy.
Daddy usually gets up first while Michael tries to rouse me into a game. By the time I get up the lights are on and he is running back and forth waiting for his playmate to join him. In the absence of his sister he wants nothing to do with the toys at hand, giving them no more than a passing glance. What he wants are my shoes, the hand mirror handed down from my grandmother which decorates our dresser, my jewelery, a long lost pen or bedside hand lotion, if it’s available.
While I navigate my morning routine I give voice in my mind to an age old debate: do I clear my house of every little thing or spend the energy to tell him what he can and cannot do? I have to date, cleared away the really obvious stuff, but I cannot put everything which might strike his fancy (and likely then a wall moments later) out of reach. So I take the long view and say he has to learn and I must put in the time and turn on my patience. My husband left to his druthers, would likely void the room of everything…but he too knows this is a battle we cannot win.
So while I shower I hear Michael being admonished for picking up the antique mirror, even while I know he’s saying, “I’ll be extra, special careful…”. And I believe him when he says that; he just might forget in the subsequent 2 minutes. As I listen to their discussion I feel his frustration at losing the objects of his curiosity, while simultaneously I know my husband is doing the right thing re-directing him. He too is possesses of the drive to play and knows intimately why Michael admires our treasures.
But there’s another scene at play outside this room where we manage Michael. Kate has risen and is roaming the house looking for the cat. Their newly ignited love affair has Kate prowling the house all day and night hoping to be able to pat and then carry her new buddy in that classic little-kid-cat-carry embrace. If she finds her in the basement the pull of the magic box will be too great and more likely than not she will turn on the T.V.. Now she’s not getting herself dressed or helping me organize her room; she’s setting me up for battle as I am forced to turn off the box, likely in the middle of some captivating episode of Dora to get her attired, fed and off to school. I am the bad guy.
So yesterday I tried a pre-emptive strike explaining to my thoughtful daughter why too much T.V. is bad for her development and why there are so many other wonderful things she could be doing with her morning, afternoon or evening energy. Park play, building towers, drawing pictures, playing baby…any of these is worthy of her time and imagination. She listens, suspicious I can see. Often she is responsive to this kind of adult talk. She absorbs and uses information about proper nutrition or why we wash hands for the whole length of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. But winning against a donut or sticky fingers is easier than the enticing company of Franklin the Turtle, Miss Spider or Daniel Cook.
I know this is a loosing battle unless my kids are kept super busy. My goal of 1-2 hours maximum a day is only achievable if I can be a super-scheduler and multi-tasker between shampooing in the morning and post-dinner playroom antics. I don’t hold out much hope on this one.
My dream is for my kids to harness their morning energy for fort building, hide and seek, pillow fights and practicing grown up things like dressing. Morning is such a beautiful time when the house is filled with laughter, excitement and sibling play. I hope we get a few more years of it before I have very little say about how they manage their time!