I am already struck with a strong urge to crawl back into bed, which I’m taking as a very bad sign indeed, seeing as how that usually doesn’t happen until closer to lunch time. Not even a bowl of grits with bacon salt (bacon salt, oh how I love thee) has perked me up. This is not a good omen.
The children are having trouble getting up in the morning, and honestly, short of putting them to bed right after they get home from school, I am out of ideas. Their bedtime is plenty early. They SHOULD be getting plenty of sleep. Maybe they are, and it’s just their genetic bent towards morning surliness that is causing the problem. I just know that mornings are getting uglier and uglier around here and I hate it. Also, I am tired of the “Don’t YELL AT US!” whine reflexively answered with “Did you come when I DIDN’T yell??” rejoinder. That’s a crappy stalemate to be in, on either side.
I have this rule, see, that breakfast is a do-your-own affair unless you dawdle too much in making your way into the kitchen, in which case I will lovingly prepare your meal for you to save time.
Let’s just say that the foods I choose are never pop-tarts. (Hey, you get downstairs on time and want a pop-tart? Knock yourself out. I’ll give you a vitamin to go with it and some organic milk to wash it down. Hypocrisy, thy name is Mom.) I am not exactly serving up big bowls of spiders, here, but for the 10-and-under set I suppose my choices are not amongst their favorites.
This morning I had the audacity to present the children with bowls of oatmeal.
Chickadee—being the more agreeable eater on nearly every front—dug in with resignation and soon emptied her bowl, even remarking halfway through that “Hey, this is pretty good.” I was then treated to the story of the oatmeal that Daddy buys, and I fully expected to hear that Daddy’s oatmeal is delivered on the backs of winged unicorns and dotted with crisp $100 bills, but alas, it only contains “sugar dinosaur eggs that go all melty in the hot water.” Yum, melting eggs. (I don’t know why that grosses me out so, given that when my children behave I will allow them to eat lard-n-sugar frosted rectangles, but, um, see that hypocrisy reference above.)
Monkey beheld his bowl, sniffed at its contents, and then his shoulders slumped. I asked him if he wanted a little cream on top and he said, “Sure,” much as one might agree that yes, as long as I’m on fire, I guess you can toast a couple of marshmallows in the flames rising off my butt. So I made a great show of drizzling the cream on and exclaiming how good that looked and how he could stir it up and ENJOY!
He gave me A Look. Monkey has only recently started with Looks (as opposed to his sister, who was BORN giving me A Look), and I had to work very, very hard not to laugh.
“I don’t LIKE oatmeal, Mama,” he said.
“Of course you do! You love oatmeal! You used to eat it all the time!” I insisted, while busy packing lunches. And that is 100% true. He used to eat oatmeal ALL THE TIME. When he was still in a highchair. Details. I mean, why discuss the last three times I gave him oatmeal and we went through this very same charade?
“It’s not like I gave you something you HATE, you know,” I pointed out.
“That’s true,” he admitted. “You could’ve given me a big jar of peanut butter.” We giggled, and he licked his spoon. Precisely three molecules of oatmeal made it into his mouth. He winced, and went back to stirring.
It was after this stellar start to the day that we somehow ended up with BOTH children in tears on their way out with Otto; one because I’d already given kisses and hugs but Little Control Freak was DEMANDING that there be more, even though we were pressed for time, and one because it was the other one’s fault that they didn’t get to choose breakfast because… oh, who knows; it was such a long tattlefest I eventually just wandered off into my happy place.
After they left I sat down to dig into the mountain of work which I swore I wouldn’t let get away from me this week which has—surprise!—gotten away from me this week. In the midst of something my computer informed that it intended to do a Firmware upgrade with or without my cooperation, and then I had to stop and THINK and figure out what it wanted me to do (shut down the computer, press and hold the button until something blinks? beeps? screams?), plus it asked for my password and because I haven’t had any caffeine yet I typoed it and panicked that OMG I FORGOT MY PASSWORD, MY COMPUTER IS DOOMED.
While it did the Firmware upgrade I went into the kitchen and did a little bit of prep for tonight’s dinner. I was feeling all happy about whipping up a marinade for this organic tofu I bought to use in a stir fry until I remembered that chances are, NO ONE in this house is going to like tofu. (I bought it in a fit of optimism. And possibly while having a hot flash.) So while breakfast was really splendid, I have a hunch that dinner is going to be even more fun!
So, yeah, clearly today is going to be FABULOUS.