Thursday, February 1, 2007

I did everything why does it feel so wrong?

This morning was a tough morning.  Whaaaaaaaah!!!


It started out alright enough.  I got out of bed earlier than I have been, so as to put an end to the tardy streak at LMNOB’s school.  Yesterday, LMNOB had wanted cream of wheat for breakfast, and there had been no time for that.  Having promised her yesterday that she could have cream of wheat today, I obligingly drug my sorry butt out of bed and proceeded to make the lumpy, pasty goo that most normal kids detest.


LMNOB woke on her own and was fairly cheerful.  She dressed herself and came down for her bowl of goo, all maple-y and brown sugary as she likes it.  But, she did not rapidly consume the goo – as the television was on and she was engrossing herself with the news channel’s coverage of a Denver water main having broken.  Normally, the tv isn’t on while getting kids readied in the morning, b/c of the high probability of lateness caused by distraction.  But I thought if it were on adult tv and not cartoons, it wouldn’t be interesting to them. 


WRONG answer.


So the tv gets turned off – I tell LMNOB that she needs to eat while I get Myself ready for work.  (I’m still in pj’s and in bedheaded largesse)  Charlie Brown is about out the door when…..


Punkinhead awakes, from a slumber that was delayed as long as was humanly possible last night, in his insistence to stay up – despite our “Go to bed!” responses.  He’s not even down the stairs when he says, “I’m hungry – I want a cookie.”  Said cookie was the reason why he fought bed-time last night.  He hadn’t eaten his dinner well so he lost the battle, despite all stops being pulled, and didn’t get one last night – and he thought he would get one for breakfast? 


Uhhhhm, hello, son, it’s me, Mom – remember, the hard ass???  Remember, we’ve met me before??  Laughing my evil motherly laugh: No cookies for breakfast!


Enter a holy fit of rage, lacking only bolts of thunder with which to smite me down.  


Sorry, no, that just isn’t going to work.  I hate being that mom, who compensates lack of quality time with her kiddos by plying them with overindulgences….and most of the time, I flat refuse to be her, much to the chagrin of my children.  Most of the time, meaning sometimes I cave, is also to my chagrin, because my inconsistency is the cause of episodes like this – but what’s a girl to do??


The battle of the wills is on.  Charlie Brown apologetically reminds me that he, uh, has to go now?


Punkinhead continues to wail and throw himself around.  I throw my hands up in despair, noting almost 20 minutes to, makeup, dress, fix my and LMNOB’s hair get Punkinhead dressed, and us all out the door. 


Go upstairs, dress hurriedly, attempt fixing hair (which finally got cut yesterday), and conclude that my new cut is a virtual mullet – makes my head look even more square than it is, and that there is no hope for today.  No time for makeup – operation car application is necessitated for today.  Quickly pull LMNOB’s hair back, and for the, seriously, 10th time, told her to Go. Get. Her. Shoes. On.  NOW!!!  Instead of obedience, I get lip. 




Dress Punkinhead. 


Get ready to dash out the door, when LMNOB says, “You were gonna give me cookies to have with my hot lunch!” 


“I put them in a baggie and they were on the kitchen table.”


“I gave those to Daddy – I thought they were for him.”


Ok, well, I’ll just get more.  Except that the large bag full of the cookies was now missing. 


I then break the news to LMNOB that Daddy must have somehow made off with both the big and the little baggie of cookies….twinkie??


Ah, that was a big fat NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!


Then she throws a raging holy fit.  All the way down the alley to the daycare lady’s house.  Punkinhead has since quit his fit and all-too-gleefully pointed out that he was now the good child.  That doesn’t quite cut the mustard with me.  LMNOB is still shrieking.  Even in the house of calm that is my son’s daycare.  I’m embarrassed, and altogether frustrated that despite having done all the right things to correct the wrongs of this week, things are STILL turning out rotten.


She calms a bit.  We get to the school, 5 minutes early I might add – yay, Mean Mommy!!  She did it.  Too bad she’s a ginormous witch.


Hugs, kisses, goodbyes.  And then LMNOB does her freakout that results in the teacher having to physically restrain her while I run out of the room – horrified, ducking from the potshots of my own self-loathing. 


Oh, yeah, this Mom gig is all sorts of guilts and giggles.