My children must have gotten together when I wasn’t looking and picked out a really cool mom that they want. Because this morning they tried to make me crazy enough that I would have to “go away” for awhile and they could go live with their new mommy.
The first 30 seconds seemed almost normal. But I keep forgetting to add the ten minutes for ear drops and ear-drop-head-positioning-so-ear-drops-don’t-run-out-of-ear time. Totally my fault. This morning, we did the drops and then as planned I read Nicholas three quick books to pass the time that he must lay on his side.
But Maggie came in midway through one book. The HORRORS! I had started reading without her. How could I?? So after a little cajoling she went and picked out one book that would be “hers” and not “his.” She came back about 2 minutes later… I was waiting… I really had to pee… I wanted to get going… she returned with One Fish, Two Fish. Let me just say, don’t fool yourself. Wonderful book, NOT a quick read. So I held it (my pee and the book) and we did the see-how-funny-it-sounds-when-mommy-reads-fast version.
We are now 25 minutes late for getting out of bed. I personally would have preferred to sleep for those 25 minutes, but there is no getting them back.
Then Maggie starts negotiations on putting away her books from last night. And negotiations about her toys. And stands there for another 10 minutes doing basically NOTHING.
In the mean time, I have peed, washed hands (of course), flossed, brushed and started removing my pajamas. I don’t see why any of this is soooooo difficult. We so it EVERY day. Jeesh.
I throw on some clothes, deciding that since I showered yesterday and we are already soooo late, funny hair will just have to work for me today.
Then I get to work on Nicholas. I take his diaper off and he runs away. This isn’t totally abnormal. He usually streaks down the hall once and comes back. It’s usually good for a laugh since his butt is still all jiggly. He got to Maggie’s room and peed on her carpet. I sensed something was wrong when he paused and looked down. I came running in and Maggie was sitting 3 feet away just looking at me. I prepared for the outburst. I prepared for the crying, the pointing of fingers.
“That sometimes happens,” she said looking at me with so much pity in her eyes.
So I scoop him up and put him on the potty and explain in a very lovingly way (seriously, I was loving) that we pee in the potty. Then I darted downstairs to fetch some paper towels because my usual stash must have been used up during the vomit incident. I ran back upstairs and Nicholas was still sitting on the potty. I was a bit surprised by this.
“Mama. Mama,” he said. Anything to get him talking right about now is great with me. Then I see that he sat on the potty and peed some more. I thought boys didn’t know how to cut off their pee stream. Like once they start, they empty. Apparently not. He had sat on the potty and had emptied the rest of his bladder on the floor and the little rug. Of course.
So I cleaned up two pee areas and did I mention, we are now TOTALLY running late and Maggie is still negotiating about her toys. As in not wanting to clean them up. Oh, and for giggles this morning she decided to pick up her books and toys before getting dressed (all freaking 7 things, it’s not like I was making her scrub floors – that was me- before school.) So at this point she is still in her pajamas. Teeth unbrushed. Hair uncombed.
I set the time timer and told her she would be very hungry at school if she missed breakfast.
I helped Nicholas finish getting ready (Ding, Ding, Ding – source of all evil – me helping the 2-y-o and not helping the 4-y-o) and we headed down for breakfast, leaving Maggie to finish doing all the things she totally knows how to do.
As we are hitting the kitchen I realize I didn’t even begin to pack lunches last night. Which means no breakfast for me. I will pack lunches while they eat and then I will eat later. (Famous last words.)
Maggie comes down totally dressed and ready to eat. She gets her matching rabbit bowl, plate and cup out. Are you ready for this? Are you ready? She asks me for a piece of chicken to put on her plate.
At this point I blankly stare at her.
“Mom, I want a piece of chicken. Not a huge piece, but a medium-little piece. Can you put it on my plate.”
Head spins off body and falls to floor.
“Uh, sure. You want chicken. OK. I’ll get you some chicken.”
And I did. And she ate it. And then had her cereal.
This is the child who threw a major fit the other night when I served the very same chicken for dinner. I think her words were “I would never eat that. Ewwww.” Three nights ago she gagged on her chicken until I pretty much lost my appetite. (Doesn’t take a whole lot with the gagging for that to happen.)
So I have three thoughts on this. 1. She was making amends for the rather foul morning we had upstairs. 2. She is trying to make my head explode. or 3. She wanted to use her matching plate and needed something to put on it. I’m going with either 1. or 3.
We were finally ready to head out the door. I set myself up again. I gave Nicholas his lunch box and his school bag. He gladly took them. Then he threw them down the stairs. It’s only two stairs, lest you think it was a whole flight. The first time I stepped away and heard that sound my heart dropped. I thought he had fallen down the stairs – to the concrete garage floor. He stood at the top pointing down. The second time, I thought he just tripped and dropped them. The third time I watched him hurl his lunch box and bag down the stairs. Today, after almost three weeks off from school I handed him the lunch box and bag. My bad. I forgot, or I thought he would have forgotten. Some days it actually cracks me up that the best way he can think of to get down the stairs with his hands full is to just pitch everything down the stairs and then follow. Today I didn’t manage to find it all that funny.
If you are still with me, thanks for reading this monster-long post.
Now, after this wonderful, free therapy session I am going to go eat breakfast and then take a nap. This morning was exhausting.