We are not the most organised, but we are certainly not disorganised. Organised chaos mabe. My idea was always to get ready the night before. School bag was in the right area, school clothes out, and shoes and coat should be in the right place because surely Ben would've put them there the night before? Whilst searching at T-2 minutes, it becomes apparently that he didn't put them there at all. In fact he left them at his friend Max's. Great.
I know this is not rocket science (I hate that phrase), but I really thought I was "getting ready the night before". I wasn't as organised as a fellow NCTer, who used to even get the breakfast out in the bowls on the table, covered over with cling film, granted, but I wasn't bad.
It had taken me nearly 45 years to realise that I don't like change. I am fine with my routine. I can get Ben and myself off to (different) school(s). It's just when he throws the curved football at me that I lose it. And I mean lose it. Sometimes when we leave the front door, we high five and Ben says to me 'Today was great Mum, we didn't argue!"
Nana suggested to me that I help him get ready. She advises in her usual non-accusing way, just something she'd noticed. It might help, you never know. It did at bit. We would spend about half an hour every evening getting ready, which meant me shouting three orders, Ben forgetting them and then us descending into another row. So it just moved the row from the morning to the night before!
Grandma, in her "have you considered" way, suggested me writing a list for Ben the night before, then removing myself from the situation, with a cup of tea, and giving him some time to do it. Guess what? A combination of the two grannies' suggestions works perfectly. I write a list on a whiteboard, carry on with my own jobs, he gets ready, rubs them off and has ultimate responsibility. Who knew!