So I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. OK, actually, it's more like I woke up in the wrong bed. With the way things played out last night when it came to keeping children asleep, D ended up in bed with the rest of us, and since four in a bed is simply too much to handle, I took S and went to the double bed in her room for the night. Unfortunately, the mattress with its sagging middle is not nearly as nice on one's back as my normal cushy pillowtop. But hey, at least I managed to get my Temperpedic pillow out from under D's head.
The less-than-ideal sleep accomodations, accompanied by previously sore muscles borne of two solid days of yard work, contributed to my waking up more than a little tired and grumpy. Tired and grumpy are not a good combination when you have to get people ready for school. OK, one person has to get ready for school.
So here's a rundown of our morning (which, by the way, is actually fairly typical, though generally my mood is more agreeable):
I ask D what he wants for breakfast. He goes through a lengthy list of possibilities, which at one point includes chips, salsa, and a quesadilla. He finally settles on a hard-boiled egg, apple slices, and grapes. I dutifully prepare everything he's asked for and even remember to get his drink of water. The first issue we run into is that he wants to eat on the couch. Since we aren't watching TV, I tell him he needs to come to the table where everyone else is having breakfast. This results in an eventual trip up to his bedroom until he can treat everyone pleasantly (which basically means "stop yelling at mom"). A few minutes later he sheepishly comes down and plays for a minute before settling into his chair to eat the breakfast, which, remember, he specifically requested. Anywhere from 5 to 10 minutes later, he informs me that he is done and gets up from the table. I look at his plate to discover that he has not eaten a single bite! Apparently his breakfast consisted of a leftover marshmallow Easter egg that he found stashed in his backpack. He doesn't want the apple slices because they are a little bit brown. Of course they are brown when they have sat on your plate for 10 minutes. He doesn't want the hardboiled egg because it's the teensiest bit green on one part from being colored. What was wrong with the grapes I have no clue.
Moving on to getting dressed: I have initially decided to stay out of the dressing game, because D is never happy with what I choose. But after all the dawdling over breakfast, and as I see the minutes ticking by on the clock, I finally go upstairs and bring down an outfit--a combination that D has worn to school dozens of times before. Immediate protest ensues! It's too small. It's too big. OK, go up and pick your own. Mom, I wore those pants yesterday. No, you didn't, you wore sweats yesterday. I'm laughing as I write this, realizing that he did end up going to school in the very outfit I initially chose.
Coats: We're in that weird phase between winter and spring. We should be done wearing coats, but it's in the 40's outside. D does not want to wear a coat. In fact, all of his coats and jackets are conveniently missing. I wonder how that happened??? At first I am going to insist on the coat-wearing thing, mostly because the school sends constant notes home reminding us that if our children aren't dressed warmly enough, they don't get to go out to recess. But it's hard to insist that your child wear a coat when you cannot for the life of you find any of their coats. So I give in and give up. D comes downstairs after having figured out the perfect solution--wear two shirts! Whatever works.
Then it's on to teeth brushing. I prepare his toothbrush and leave it sitting by the sink. I remind him several times that it's just about time for school, and he needs to go brush his teeth. Brushing his teeth is of paramount importance this morning because we were so late for school yesterday that we skipped brushing. So a few minutes later I go in to check on him. It's now one minute before time to leave, and the toothbrush sits unused on the counter, while D is sticking his tongue up and out in the mirror, telling me how his tongue has a skeleton inside it. A somewhat firmer reminder about school starting proves only to instigage a rousing round of tongue-clicking. Oh the things we can do with our tongues!
We finally make it out the door. As we walk down the sidewalk, I am overcome with remorse for my impatience and my inability to see the humor and creativity inherent in everything that has transpired this morning. I look at my sweet boy, so full of eagerness for the day that lies ahead, and impulsively give him a hug as I say, "I hope you have a good day today!"
His response: "Why?"
The less-than-ideal sleep accomodations, accompanied by previously sore muscles borne of two solid days of yard work, contributed to my waking up more than a little tired and grumpy. Tired and grumpy are not a good combination when you have to get people ready for school. OK, one person has to get ready for school.
So here's a rundown of our morning (which, by the way, is actually fairly typical, though generally my mood is more agreeable):
I ask D what he wants for breakfast. He goes through a lengthy list of possibilities, which at one point includes chips, salsa, and a quesadilla. He finally settles on a hard-boiled egg, apple slices, and grapes. I dutifully prepare everything he's asked for and even remember to get his drink of water. The first issue we run into is that he wants to eat on the couch. Since we aren't watching TV, I tell him he needs to come to the table where everyone else is having breakfast. This results in an eventual trip up to his bedroom until he can treat everyone pleasantly (which basically means "stop yelling at mom"). A few minutes later he sheepishly comes down and plays for a minute before settling into his chair to eat the breakfast, which, remember, he specifically requested. Anywhere from 5 to 10 minutes later, he informs me that he is done and gets up from the table. I look at his plate to discover that he has not eaten a single bite! Apparently his breakfast consisted of a leftover marshmallow Easter egg that he found stashed in his backpack. He doesn't want the apple slices because they are a little bit brown. Of course they are brown when they have sat on your plate for 10 minutes. He doesn't want the hardboiled egg because it's the teensiest bit green on one part from being colored. What was wrong with the grapes I have no clue.
Moving on to getting dressed: I have initially decided to stay out of the dressing game, because D is never happy with what I choose. But after all the dawdling over breakfast, and as I see the minutes ticking by on the clock, I finally go upstairs and bring down an outfit--a combination that D has worn to school dozens of times before. Immediate protest ensues! It's too small. It's too big. OK, go up and pick your own. Mom, I wore those pants yesterday. No, you didn't, you wore sweats yesterday. I'm laughing as I write this, realizing that he did end up going to school in the very outfit I initially chose.
Coats: We're in that weird phase between winter and spring. We should be done wearing coats, but it's in the 40's outside. D does not want to wear a coat. In fact, all of his coats and jackets are conveniently missing. I wonder how that happened??? At first I am going to insist on the coat-wearing thing, mostly because the school sends constant notes home reminding us that if our children aren't dressed warmly enough, they don't get to go out to recess. But it's hard to insist that your child wear a coat when you cannot for the life of you find any of their coats. So I give in and give up. D comes downstairs after having figured out the perfect solution--wear two shirts! Whatever works.
Then it's on to teeth brushing. I prepare his toothbrush and leave it sitting by the sink. I remind him several times that it's just about time for school, and he needs to go brush his teeth. Brushing his teeth is of paramount importance this morning because we were so late for school yesterday that we skipped brushing. So a few minutes later I go in to check on him. It's now one minute before time to leave, and the toothbrush sits unused on the counter, while D is sticking his tongue up and out in the mirror, telling me how his tongue has a skeleton inside it. A somewhat firmer reminder about school starting proves only to instigage a rousing round of tongue-clicking. Oh the things we can do with our tongues!
We finally make it out the door. As we walk down the sidewalk, I am overcome with remorse for my impatience and my inability to see the humor and creativity inherent in everything that has transpired this morning. I look at my sweet boy, so full of eagerness for the day that lies ahead, and impulsively give him a hug as I say, "I hope you have a good day today!"
His response: "Why?"
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