Why I Cried Before Breakfast
Noah has pulled off plenty of wild, funny, and mostly harmless stunts, but some days I am just plain worn out. This morning was one of those days. I have been waking up like it is still the school year, getting Noah ready for ESY or camp and trying to squeeze in some work. But today, surprise, no ESY. I thought, perfect, I will sip some coffee, eat breakfast, and ease into my day like a functioning adult. Noah had other plans.
First, he started taking framed photos off the wall. When I told him to put them back, he began smacking a large one against the wall like he was trying to summon spirits—or at least my attention. Then he plopped down beside me with his banana and waffles, and began stuffing food in his mouth like it was a sport. Banana peels started flying in my direction. Finally, he unplugged the TV. That was it. I cried. All I wanted was five quiet minutes to myself. Just five. I was not asking for a trip to Bali.
Some days I want to crawl back into bed and declare myself temporarily out of order. Constantly monitoring, correcting, redirecting—it is a full-time job with overtime. I love Noah to pieces, of course. But holy moly, he is exhausting.
This is not the first time Noah has driven me to tears before 9 AM and it will not be the last. During the school year, we had many mornings where he refused to leave the house—not because he did not want to go to school, but because he wanted to leave when he was good and ready. Meanwhile, I have other kids to get to school and actual humans waiting for me to teach them things. But school mornings are a story for another day.
The frustration can be overwhelming and feel like I am losing the war one banana peel at a time. Thank goodness for faith, family, and friends—or I would have moved into a cave by now.
Have you ever had mornings like this? The kind where chaos shows up before coffee? I would love to know—what do you do when you are hanging on by a thread and your kid is swinging from the chandelier (or just unplugging the TV)? Share your survival strategies, tantrum tales, or just let me know I am not alone in this beautiful madness.
