As I walked into the house after a not so good run, I opened the door so slowly, trying to make a quiet entrance into the house -all I wanted to do is wash away my pain by sneaking into the shower without anyone bothering me. As I gently opened the door I was met with a full blown disaster and a big ole bellow from the six year “I’m not going to school” which was quickly followed by an even bigger bellow of “I DON’T WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL”. I did a quick survey of the situation and found that 1) that both kids were up, still in their pj’s sitting in front of the TV that was blaring SpongeBob and breakfast was nowhere in sight (major rules being broken.) 2) that their Dad was still fast asleep. With steam coming from my ears, and smoke billowing from my nose I was pissed off. I reluctantly told myself that I’d have to wage this battle on my own. That’s what we do, right Moms? I rolled up my sleeves, tore off my running shoes and figured that I’d dive in deep, hell, I am already beat up might as well take more abuse from the kids.
I tried my hardest to figure out “why” the six year old was protesting school. I went down the entire list of possible scenarios that might have occurred: Is someone being mean to you? Did the teacher yell at you? Were you being mean to someone? Are you tired, does your belly hurt; do you have to go poopie? I pulled everything out of my tired old hat, and the response to every question was a very emphatic NO! Followed by throwing himself on the couch kicking and screaming, in a colossal meltdown of all meltdowns, it was like he was the wicked witch of the west and I threw water on him. Imagine it was that easy?
My annoyed level was at a boiling point now, and since there was nothing I could do to fix the situation, I did the obvious…you know I dreamed of what my life would be like in the 50’s, let’s say in the show Father’s Knows Best. It would of course be a glorious sunny morning, there would be little humming birds flying around behind me as I skipped through the kitchen preparing a three course breakfast. The kids would be neatly dressed and pressed in their school best, hair combed just so, sitting quietly on the couch reading the encyclopedia. The hubby would be still asleep, nestled under the covers, I of course made sure that I shut door so he wouldn’t get disturbed but not before I placed a cold compress with a faint scent of lilac across his face to reduce the morning eye swell. I made it a point to have his eggs, bacon, and toast prepared just right so that when he was ready to get up and start the hard day ahead of him, he’d have a nice fully belly. Of course, after I hopped out of a most relaxing shower, I had a little rabbit fix my hair in beautiful ribbons that cascaded down my lovely ensemble of a pencil skirt in chocolate brown, a lovely cashmere sweater, with the cutest and most comfortable shoes – all of course purchased at Saks’s that fit me just right.
When my little nightmare burst, I shuddered a little and found myself with the pillow in my hand heading for my husband’s side of the bed. My little plan never played out because lunch boxes whizzing past my head faster than a stealth bomber, the little guy waving his finger back and forth, shaking his butt singing “you can’t get me”. Since the decision to avoid jail time was made for me, I thought I’d just “get” the little bastard, I faked him out and successfully captured him when the hubby stumbled out of bed, (perhaps he felt me lurking about) scratched his head, and continually bumped into me while I was trying desperately to get ready for work, get the kids dressed and fed for school which by this time the protests stopped because their father was farting the theme of Sponge Bob – nothing like a good distraction to get a kid back on track and focused. As much as I hate the flatulence from these three boys, I do truly thank the hubby for that.
The kids were running as fast as Flo Jo when we walked out the door, I had Cheerio’s stuck to my shoes, and as we entered the car with hopes that it would start is of course when I realized that this chaos makes my world go round; that even though I am on the brink of a meltdown, a colossal meltdown,(which I will be taking tips from my 6 year old on how to conduct), that I am lucky to have all this, all of it including the farts!