This morning I was sitting in the bathtub literally giving myself a pep-talk. “This week won’t win! You got this! It’s Friday!” Rah-Rah-Rah. As I was gearing myself up for a BIG day to round out an incredible taxing week EVERYONE burst into the bathroom and destroyed my little pep-rally.
Colton: “Mom, SLSA is selling chicken biscuits. You know SLSA, right?”
Kinsley: “BAGHSWHAGH”, wails emerge, “He gets a biscuit every Friday and we only get them once like every 3 months and today it our day but OH NO do I get a biscuit? NOOOOOOO…….” Voice raises an octave and the end.
ME: “I AM NAKED.”
Here comes hubby. “I can’t open my eye,” he moans. Our precious little 2 year old has given him the gift of pink-eye. His first case. He performs facial exercises in the mirror oblivious to the drama unfolding.
“Look-it-did Mamma!” And here comes the baby. In her silver shoes. With chocolate all over her mouth.
And all this is occurring as I sit, naked, in the bathtub. I don’t like to be naked. Even alone. Much less with an audience.
I grab a washcloth…oh yeah… like that will cover anything. There was a time when a washcloth would have done the trick but these days it takes a hand towel to even pretend to provide any modesty. A beach towel would actually work better but I don’t have one of those handy. Hey, don’t judge, I didn’t know I would be holding COURT at 7:25 on Friday morning while sitting in lukewarm water trying to gear myself up to tackle a very hectic day.
The 2 year old toddled off on her own…probably to dump out the Cheerio’s she was carrying all over the floor. Like Scarlett O’Hara I’ll worry about that another day. Preferably when I am dressed.
Husband finally gets his eye open and becomes aware of the tension. Sensing danger he makes the mistake of laughing, “Hang in there, baby,” and then the coward leaves.
Time to own this conversation. I point to Colton. “What is SLSA?” He responds by explaining that it is the student leadership group he’s affiliated with. “Why aren’t you helping if it is the leadership club?” He’s got an answer for that too-it’s the 8th grade project. “Okay. From now on you have to tell me before. I don’t ever have cash. Luckily there is $3.00 in my change purse. Go.” Knowing what is good for him he scampers away.
Point to Kinsley, “Hush.” That is the equivalent of throwing gasoline on a burning ember. “This response is not about a chicken biscuit. It’s about you being sent to bed at 9:15 and deciding to read until 10:15,” Having make that point I move on. “Did you know about the chicken biscuit sale before today?” I have to yell to be heard over her wails. I ask again. And again. Finally, she nods. “If you told me about your chicken biscuit sale BEFORE 7:30a on the MORNING OF THE SALE I would have been happy to have gotten the money. You. Did. Not.”
“Colllllltooooonnnnnn got-got-got one-one-one last wa-wa-wa week.” We’ve moved from wailing to full one drama-stuttering and hiccupping.
“You didn’t have a sale last week. Yesterday you asked if you could have ice cream money and I gave it to you. Had you asked about chicken biscuit money I would have given you the $3.00 in my wallet that I had to move to get you the .75cents. You didn’t tell me about the sale. You didn’t even remember the biscuit until AFTER Colton asked for money this morning. And…YOU are the only one crying.” I see her mouth forming the F word. “And don’t even think about telling me it is not FAIR. Fair is a bad word from here on out and you aren’t allowed to use it.”
The water is now cold.