As you know, I have instituted no-lunch making Friday. Friday morning I handed my 4th grader a few singles and my 6th grader came downstairs with a frown and begrudgingly made her own lunch. I was glad it was Friday. The week was long and trying.
That afternoon I ran into my 4th grader's teacher. She said, "You'll never believe what your daughter did today." Those word instill fear inside of me. Whatever it was, I was not going to be surprised. Nothing she does or says is shocking anymore.
She leaned down to my daughter and said, "Show your mom what you did with your lunch money today." She grinned and said, "I was making it rain."
In front of the class. Her teacher just laughed and laughed. C'mon. Really? I can't imagine what she thinks happens in our house. We are really thug living. Sitting around listening to Petey Pablo, wearing our pinky rings, making it rain.
That night, I didn't sleep well. I tossed and turned, my ever-growing to-do list ran through my head. I had to get up early to help run an event at the school. When the alarm went off at 5:30 am on Saturday, I groaned and hit SNOOZE. I did this twice before getting up. I sat at the edge of the bed, half asleep, my bones ached. My arthritis has been flaring up bad. I envisioned sitting in an empty kitchen sipping on a hot mug of coffee to get my day started. I finally got up to let the dog out. The minute my feet hit the floor - my 9 year old appeared. Wide awake.
"Good morning, mom!" she said cheerfully. Why?
"Good morning. It's not even 6. Go back to bed, we have a long day in front of us. You need to rest."
"I'm not tired." Of course not.
I went downstairs to let the dog out, put the water on the kettle and then used the bathroom. I am literally sitting on the toilet and I could see my daughters eye through the crack of the door. She wanted to talk to me. It was 6 in the morning and I just wanted to pee alone. "Mom, you need to let the dog in."
"I'm using the bathroom. You let the dog in."
"But it's dark outside and scary."
"Ok."
"Don't forget to let the dog in, mom. The water is boiling too."
"Ok."
I shuffled out of the bathroom to let the dog in. My daughter followed behind, blabbing about something. My brain was not working enough to process. "Honey, I'm a little grumpy this morning. Give me a minute to just have a cup of coffee and then we can talk." No. No such luck.
I was bent over scooping food into the dog's down and she kept tapping me on the back. "Mom, mom - look at my imitation. Mom, watch me. Mom, mom, mom...." I just couldn't take it anymore.
"I don't want to see it right now!" I snapped. Her face totally changed.
She turned around and walked upstairs. I immediately felt like the worst person in the universe. She loves me. She only wanted to show me her imitation. I thought about the parents who have lost children, or have kids who are sick, or the people who can't have children themselves, and my future self in 10 years. They wouldn't be mean and grumpy to their nine year old. They would be grateful to have a beautiful, healthy child who wants to spend time with them early in the morning.
I made a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table and thought self loathing thoughts for 15 minutes. I am an asshole. Not a nice person. Ungrateful. I hurt my own child's feelings. I rejected her. Bad Mom Award. Afterwards, I did the walk of shame upstairs. I called her over and pulled her onto my lap. Her long legs dangled over me.
"I'm sorry I hurt your feelings. I didn't mean to. I'd like to see your impression." Her eyes brightened. She jumped off my lap, put her hands on her head and ran towards me at full speed. "That was my bull impression," she said proudly.
We went to the school carnival and worked the whole day. The kids played with their friends. My 6th grader got into the dunk tank. It was a beautiful day.
We came home in the afternoon, took a quick shower and then went out to Chinese and then attended the ghost walk - another annual tradition. By the time we got home that evening, I was beat. My body was sore and I was barely keeping my eyes open. I fixed hot chocolate for the kids and went straight to bed. I was asleep by the time my head hit the pillow.
This morning I woke up at 6:30. I was sore all over but grateful that there was not much to do today. The house was quiet. My 9 year old had a friend sleep over so I expected her to sleep for a little while longer. I let the dog out and put on a put on a kettle of water. I exhaled. Finally, I have the house to myself, I thought. That's when I heard footsteps on the staircase. Oh God. No.
My nine year old jumped out from the hallway into the kitchen, "I'm here!" she declared. Jazz hands and the whole thing.
Her friend stood behind her, wide eyed. "Can you make us pancakes?" I was like:
I made the pancakes. I set them down on the table as my 9 year old flipped through Southern Living magazine. She pointed to the cover.
"Mom, you need to make this turkey on Thanksgiving."
"I don't think I'm making the turkey."
"YES, you are. You are making this one. And make sure there is no celery in the stuffing. I hate celery."
I glanced over at the microwave. It read 6:52. I wondered if it was too early to drink. I remembered the previous morning and I bit my tongue. I walked over and kissed her on the top of the head. "I'll make sure there is no celery."
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