Our family’s been oversleeping this week due to the change in time.
Here is this morning’s snapshot, so you can either:
A)Feel better about yourselves, or
B) Recognize yourselves and know you’re not alone.
7:06AM –Darkness finally lifts, so the family begins to awaken. Having forgotten to set our alarms again, we are now 6 minutes behind schedule (thanks, Daylight Savings – why do I always forget that lighter at night means darker in the morning?)
7:09 – I dig through the storage crates in my daughters’ closet looking for short sleeved shirts since it is 75 degrees out this week, and I don’t want to be the parent who sends my children to school in corduroy, turtlenecks, and boots.
7:11 –Youngest Son decides he will wear Tshirt to school that he slept in. I know all about picking my battles, so I do a sniff test – although due to allergies, my nose may not be working at full capacity – and tell him it’s okay this time, but consider this your freebie because clearly this doesn’t fall under, “Good hygiene habits.” FYI: Youngest Son is a night time sweater.
7:13 – Youngest Daughter throws full blown temper tantrum, wearing nothing but underpants and socks. Declares she does not want to go to school. When I announce that she is going to school – even if it means leaving the house half naked – she reluctantly dresses. Grateful she hasn’t yet called my bluff on that one, I make a note to self: “Develop alternate list of sarcastic threats on which I can actually follow through.”
7:15 – Catch Oldest Daughter trying to get away with wearing yesterday’s socks even though a nice, clean pair sits right beside her.
7:16 – Decide there is something in the inner workings of children this age that WANTS to be smelly. Am reminded of our Labrador retriever (God rest her soul) who was never so happy as the day she returned to the house after rolling in the remains of a dead skunk. What’s worse than being sprayed by a live skunk? Rolling in dead skunk.
7:25 – Announce to Oldest Son that he must pack lunch today, so he better get out of bed and start moving. Grunts disapproval but does dislodge himself from bottom bunk.
7:28 – Youngest daughter, done with tantrum, whimpers in pain (1 part real and 2 parts feigned) as I rake wide tooth comb through tangled knot of hair. The only comb with teeth wider than this one is a pick, which I’ll have to resort to unless we cut her hair. Off. Completely.
7:32 – Youngest Son and Oldest Daughter (twins) rush off to brush teeth. Only one succeeds due to “bubble on top of paste.” Preempted stinky feet but lost the day to morning breath.
7:35 – I peek into Oldest Son’s Pittsburgh Steelers’ lunchbox. Although his appetite usually rivals that of a full grown man’s, today, he’s decided that a well balanced lunch consists of: 1 baggie of popcorn buffalo chips, 1 cereal bar, and 1 fruit chewy pack. (Which reminds me … why do I keep buying these rubber substitute fruits? Oh yeah, peeling and slicing apples takes time, the kids are on a no-grape kick, oranges also need to be cut at home since the school has this silly policy against kids packing sharp knives, bananas rot by lunch time unless you buy them GREEN, and I waste 2/3 of the kiwi cutting through its brown, leathery skin.)
7:36 – Although I know confrontation with a ten year old minutes before we need to walk out the front door is fruitless, I engage anyway. “This isn’t enough food,” I tell him. “If you don’t like what we have in the house, help me find things you do want to eat.” He stares. Walks away.
7:37 – I follow Oldest Son to his room and continue to wheedle him about his lunch. “If you’re not going to pack a sandwich or peanut butter and crackers, you can’t take the chocolate milk.” To which he replies he doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to eat anyway. (BTW, he has no pounds to lose. Whatsoever.)
7:37.5 – Frightened that my son is one of those anorexics I saw on Dr. Oz last week, and unable to control the words that tumble out, I exclaim, “You’ve got to eat! Our bodies need food!”
7:38 – Oldest Son declares he wants to go on a diet. Eating isn’t fun anymore. “That’s crazy talk,” I say. “I’m going to call your counselor.”
Because I like to escalate things, you know, for fun.
FAST FORWARD 8:32 – Alert! Alert! Oldest Son most likely pushing your buttons. And you fell for it … again …sucker!
7:47 – Big kids scramble out of van, while I wave goodbye and take Youngest Daughter to her school, five miles away.
8:09 – Youngest Daughter lurches forward in van as we pull up to our spot in drop off because we can’t wait until we are there to unbuckle her from her carseat, or we’ll hold up the line. Surely Sister wonders about my parenting skills. Hopefully, she says a few Hail Mary’s for us too.
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