He woke up on the wrong side of the bed is not a phrase I use often. I've never bought into the philosophy that someone can wake up in a bad mood. This is ironic, considering I am the queen of waking up with a boulder-sized chip on my shoulder. I finally recognized this in myself when I saw it, first hand, in my son this morning. He woke up 30 minutes earlier than usual, came upstairs and asked me if he could watch TV (I was in the shower). I told him he could but he'd have to wait until I finished my shower. This did not go over well. He collapsed into a pile of tears and whiny incoherent victim phrases. It was a great way for me to begin my day.
I got out of the shower, got dressed, and turned on PBS for him. I explained that the TV would be turned off soon when it was time for us to go downstairs and get ready for school. His response was a tad irrational:
Son: SCHOOL? I have school AGAIN? Does Tatum have school today?
Me: Not today.
Son: She ALWAYS gets to stay home while I have to go to school. And then he made a noise that I can only describe as a dramatic screech followed by the classic arm folded, head bowed sulking pose. It pleased me so.
I chose not to acknowledge that last statement, made some kind of threat regarding the TV (I made so many threats this morning that I can't remember what this one was), and went on with the business of getting myself ready for the day. Suffice it to say, my expectations for the smoothness of my morning routine were dropping at record speed. I was dreading the next 45 minutes like a root canal.
After I finished getting myself ready, I waited two minutes until Dragon Tales was over, turned off the TV and asked the kids (by this time both were up in my bed) to go downstairs and get dressed. This request, which he knew was coming, brought forth an absurd amount of tears and drama from my son. I made another threat regarding the Wii that prompted him to peel himself off of the bed and go downstairs where he got dressed fast enough to give a sloth a run for his money, whining the entire time about the pants, the shirt, the shoes. A smooth morning of dressing, bed making and room cleaning earns my kids a token which they use to redeem for an allowance. My son asked, after his painful dressing episode, if he could add a token to his board. I braced myself as I explained that a token is only earned if the task is completed with a "willing spirit" and that his willing spirit was MIA that morning. This, as you can imagine, did not go over well. More whining and crying ensued and I ended up sending my son to his room until he was ready to behave like a civilized human being. After he composed himself, we sat down for breakfast which went off without incident. The drama, however, was not over. My son caught a glimpse of the school cafeteria menu as he carried his dishes to the sink and burst into tears. I was mystified. WHAT NOW?
In between sobs, he said this to me:
You told me that they were having chicken sandwiches yesterday Mommy and they had pizza. PIZZA! I don't like pizza. Why do you keep telling me things that AREN'T TRUE????
Well, this made me feel like a million bucks. What kind of Mom am I? After two unexpected snow days I assume that the menu is still accurate and send my son to school with no lunch and he is subsequently forced to consume pizza. PIZZA! The humanity! I told him that I was just going by what the menu said and tried to explain that it could have been much worse. The menu could have been sloppy joes or meatloaf! I then broke into a chorus of, "Lunch Lady Land" by Adam Sandler which didn't go over quite as well as I'd hoped.
So, to get rid of the enormous chip on my shoulder that I blame squarely on my son, I am watching the video of Adam Sandler and the late, great Chris Farley as the Lunch Lady over and over again. It's better than Prozac!
Hoagies and grinders. Hoagies and grinders. Navy beans, navy beans, navy beans!