We have a certain morning routine in our house, which is to say there is none. Some days all goes smoothly, we get up early, hair is brushed, lunch is made, knapsack is neatly organized and waiting by the back door and I am smug and full of self-congratulation. Other days, the morning starts off slowly like an old wooden roller coaster ascending a track, ponderous and creaking, followed by a rapid descent and a great burst of screaming, riotous speed.
Translation: things start slowly and then accelerate wildly.
A typical day begins with my daughter playing with the cat or perhaps leisurely surveying a science project on the breakfast room window sill, toast languishing untouched on the plate. There is much confusion over mismatched socks and a lost hairbrush. There is generalized dawdling. (Surely the person who invented this word had children.) Such a lazy and perhaps even charming approach to the day is perfect perhaps for a sunny cottage morning but is, however, hopelessly unsuitable for a school day. With some ‘encouragement’ from me to move along, there is a gradual increase in momentum, culminating inevitably in a mad dash out the door at 8:50, apple in hand, tangled hair, no socks, coat undone.
At last we make it to the street and then, next, to the corner, where at age nine, my daughter is able with the help of the crossing guard to navigate the street by herself and head up the short hill to the school. Most days I stand on the corner and watch her as she half runs, half walks up the sidewalk. Sometimes she will turn back to see if I’m there, but often she will simply continue, lost in her own thoughts of the day, growing smaller to my eyes as she gets farther from me and closer to the school steps. It occurs to me that this is in a way a metaphor for parenting and I feel wistful.
But what of this routine of no routine? Volumes is written on the value of routine for children— as infants, pre-schoolers,in the classroom and even as teens. Routine brings with it certainty, imbues a sense of stability, and by extension allows children to learn, explore and grow on a solid foundation. In short, routine allows life to be a little bit predictable.
Perhaps I’m being hard on myself, I ponder. Certainly our home offers stability and predictability—if perhaps a slightly unstructured approach to some things.
Like where to keep the hairbrush, for example.
