Mom of the year-that’s me.
First Friday of the first full week of school and day 5 of the shingles-that’s my excuse and I am sticking to it.
Baby girl decided she did not want to get up. She snuggled in and was so stinking cute snuggled up to me that I indulged her for 1 snooze to long. (Yes, she was in my bed) Her first groggy words, “I no go to school today” to which I hastily replied, “Yes you go to school today but it’s FRIDAY!” She was not impressed.
I had to carry—okay HAD is a strong word—it was easier to carry baby girl upstairs with me then to spend 20minutes assuring her that I wasn’t leaving her by going out of the room. What a lug! I swear I almost couldn’t make it. She thought my panting and ‘ooohhhhinnggg’ was a game. It wasn’t. In the bigs room she promptly announced she needed to snuggle with HIM and crawled right in with her big brother. He was still asleep but still threw his arm around her and pulled her close. It was so stinking sweet that I let them stay that way. Not my best decision considering I’d already started the day one with one too many ‘snoozes’.
Big girl made the mistake of whining about it being her turn to walk to dog. BIG. MiSTAKE. She made a bigger mistake to whine and complain about how she has to do all the work. And then she went and made an even bigger mistake in taking the poor dog for the shortest walk in history. 3 strikes right there in one fail swoop. Remember that when you judge me at the end.
Thanks to my Bunn I fed my beloveds a warm, nutritious breakfast. I am betting the brown sugar and maple oatmeal had more sugar then a twix bar but it was warm and oatmeal sounds nutritious. I am totally claiming that as a win.
Things went downhill from here. Ya know, because they were going so swimmingly up until this point. Baby girl threw her book bag across the room when we repeated the “I don’t wanna “ “but you have to” conversation from earlier. (Had it not been in a fit pitching moment I would have been impressed. Girls got an arm.) Middle child saw the fit and make a big production of it. To a) gain control of the situation and b) to prove that I parent with equal authority (haha) I promptly instructed baby girl to pick up the book bag. Then I instructed her to get off the floor and pick up the book bag. After that I instructed her to quit screaming, get off the floor and pick up the book bag. I swatted her behind, instructed her to quit screaming, get off the floor and pick up the book bag. I attempted to get her off the floor manually and she pulled the whole ‘limp child’ stunt. Did I mention this child is HEAVY? Big Bro and big sister were urging her to get off the floor, quit screaming and to pick up the book bag. They added please. As you can see from the escalation of commands I was having no luck. Mommy -win moment right here–I threw away her play-doh. I mean I made a big production of pulling it out of the toy drawer and dumping it into the black, hefty bag. That fat little arm snuck out from under that curled up little body and pulled the book back to her. I’ll count that as a win. I feel like waving my arms and saying, “Nothing to see here people, nothing to see, move on” like the policemen do on TV.
Let me add that middle child that made sure that this little exchange happened pulled the play-doh out of trash and handed it back to her when she thought I wasn’t looking.
Middle girl emerged moments later. It’s never good when they start talking before you can even see them. “I know you are going to say NO but Lucy says it’s okay. Lucy talked to her teacher, who isn’t my teacher but is still a teacher, and she said they didn’t really mean no leggings…not really…and that you could wear them as long as you had something covering your booty.” This was all said as she was coming down the stairs. Moments later she emerged in the leggings that were very clearly in the NO category of the middle school dress code. “If you get sent home for wearing something you aren’t supposed to wear there will be consequences. BIG ONES,” was all I said. Did you read NO anywhere in that sentence? She keeps talking and referencing Lucy. I tune her out and try, for the 3rd time, to apply some make-up.
Boy child comes down stairs and immediately says, “You know you can’t wear that.” He is, of course, the expert on all things middle school having just spent 3 whole years there. Fight ensues. She repeats the Lucy argument. He counters with Lucy doesn’t know everything. She retorts, “ …and you do…” to which he rattles of his credentials…being a middle scholar just last year. She counters that rules change. He launches right back ‘this one didn’t’. He’s usually not as quick with retorts so I give him props for this little exchange.
I poke my still unmade up face out of the bathroom and say, “Change.” Oh lord at the conversation that follows that command. I’ll give you the highlights. She can’t change (she turns this into a 4 syllable word CHHHH—AAA—NNNN—JJJJJJJ). She has nothing else to wear. Her jeans are dirty and no, it’s not her fault, it’s mine because she clearly remembers me telling her that I would wash, fold and put away her laundry so if she can’t find them it’s my fault, not hers. Now keep in mind-this is a smart girl. Normally. This was not her finest moment. I’ll paraphrase my response. NO way. She’s responsible for her own laundry now. I never volunteered to do her laundry and if she can’t find something it’s her issue and not mine. She has other things to wear. Wow…I wish I could have paraphrased in the moment because that sounds so much better than the actual conversation. She stomps off to put on her book bag. Couple of items to point out here: STOMPING would be one and the fact that putting on her book bag means she thinks she has won this little argument and doesn’t plan on changing. Challenge issued. Challenge accepted. “Change,” I say but I don’t get the word out of my mouth before she begins to say “…Lu….” Mommy win moment—I scream “I am not Lucy’s mother and Lucy doesn’t make the rules…I DO…change!!” And in Disney movies it would end there.
We are no Disney family. Eye roll and “Geez Mom…” earn her a fresh onslaught of mom-isms…do as I say, don’t look at me like that, watch the attitude and so on and so forth. Eventually she gets tired of hearing them and STOMPS up the stairs.
I STOMP back to the bathroom for the 4th attempt at make-up. In a rare moment of restraint I don’t respond to the fight that is happening in the den. Though I do a silent victory fist pump when boy shouts, “You know you are wrong or you wouldn’t be changing.”
Meanwhile baby girl has worked herself into a state of panic about school. As I dress her I work on that. Talking about her fun new school doesn’t work. Reminding her she is a big girl has no impact. Asking her to be brave makes no difference. Mommy win: I bribe her with candy and act silly to make her laugh. Hey, don’t judge.
She gets dressed and is working on her brave face in order to earn skittles. Boy sits on the ottoman and is all but dozing off. I am as made up as I am going to be. Here we go. I herd everyone to the door and attempt to make the exit. Oh &*^% here comes the girl. Grumbling. Bitching. Still stomping. I hang my head, we were so close to being out the door. Before she gets to the bottom of the stair she’s lit into her brother with some ridiculous barb. I’ve had E.N.O.U.G.H. Mommy moment for the WIN——I almost can’t even admit this. If it does any good I am totally mortified at myself. I tell her to shut up. Yeah. Real grown up move, I know. I meant it but there were certainly more Mommy-approved ways of handling it.
Bet you thought it was over…NOPE. Middle girl and I continue to spar as I put baby girl in the car and they walk to the bus stop. We’ve literally ‘taken it outside’.