So, you guys- none of you told me that 9 year olds are nuts. Because they are. I never associated 9 with being a tween- I still pictured 9 year olds as little kids, but nope, the hormones are a raging and the mood swings (slight as they may be) are starting.

And not one of you warned me.

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Our morning routines have been the same since the kids were itty bitty: eat breakfast, get dressed, brush teeth, brush hair, pack up backpack and put on shoes. That literally hasn’t changed in 6 years and yet, some morning we (read: the kids) struggle with following that pretty basic task list.

Last Thursday was a rushed morning. The kids have 50-odd minutes to get ready in the morning and breakfast took up 30 minutes because they were messing around. I scooted them off to get dressed and told them very clearly that they had 2 minutes to do so (their clothes were already laid out- God bless uniforms). 2 minutes go by and Bean is dressed, but Scorch is making some sort of tunnel system under my blankets so I told him that he lost electronics for the day and that he had 1 minute to get dressed. He got dressed in 37 seconds and proudly proclaimed that he earned back electronics. When I told him that it doesn’t work that way, he sobbed. And raged. And sobbed some more. I yelled, he yelled, the Hubs yelled and the Bean acted like a perfect angel just to tick her brother off even more.

The sobbing continued on the ride to school with deep, gulping breaths telling me how hard the mornings were because all I did was yell and he was so overwhelmed because I gave him 3 things to do at the same time and he was only human. When I very calmly suggested perhaps he had a part to play in this by not doing what he was asked the first 4 times, Scorch protested loudly that he always does what he’s told and that I still yell all the time.

After 10 minutes of this, I started to doubt myself. Maybe I do yell too much. Maybe I should be more understanding. Perhaps I do give him too much to do at once- I mean, he’s 9 so maybe telling him that he has to get his shoes on, pack up his backpack and find his coat *is* too much. Maybe I don’t give the kids enough time in the morning and I set us all up for failure. Maybe *I* am the problem.

I apologized to Scorch and we brainstormed a new way to run our mornings to see if things can go smoother. By the time we got to school, the sobs turned into little hiccups and he calmed down. When I parked, I told the kids to get their stuff and hop out so we could head in. Scorch asked for a tissue to dry his eyes while the Bean went inside. I asked (calmly, I may add!) Scorch to get a move on because we were late so he leaned forward to throw his tissue away in the little garbage can I keep between the center console and the dashboard.

After he threw his tissue away, I told him to hop out, but be kept leaning forward further. And then further more. Next thing I know, he’s literally trying to wedge his head between the windshield and the dash. When I asked him what in the world he was doing because it was time to go to school (for those keeping tracking at home, that was the 3rd time he was told that), he told me he was trying to see if he could get his head stuck.

He. Was. Trying. To. See. If. He. Could. Get. His Head. Stuck.

That was when I realized that nope, it wasn’t me, it was that 9 year old boys are crazy, emotional, inattentive, pains in the neck.

Someone told me that the honeymoon is over and this is the start of the crazy train for at least the next 4 years. Hold me.