Hothead

Both of my younger children went to school today with murder in their eyes. They were thinking specifically of my murder, preferrably one where some mom-like-monster appears and makes me clean my room until I keel over from exhaustion and lack of trampoline time. Then, when I’m almost but not quite dead, she’ll make me dig out all the things that I hid under the bed and put them away in their proper place! With the final twist of the knife, that monster will make me take a shower even though I just had one on Thursday.

My 10 year-old son had covered his class picture in Pokemon stickers. The same class picture that he had, weeks before, begged me (with tears!) to pay ten dollars for. Like a sucker I reluctantly wrote the cheque, even though I knew he’d be getting a free yearbook in June and all of his classmates would be pictured in there for him to keep forever. When he brought the class photo home on Friday, he declared it the suckiest picture ever taken of him. His transition lenses had darkened because they took the picture outside on a sunny day and he decided he looked like a blind kid. I stuck it on his windowsill and told him to cut the dramatics. This morning when I found it covered with Pikachu and Grombleguts and Moomoolicks (I don’t know! It’s Pokemon! Does it make any sense to YOU?) it was me who busted out the dramatics. My blood started to heat up in my veins and I began speaking in tongues. He was grounded! He didn’t deserve anything we got for him! Did he think money grew on trees! Did he think we were rich!

(oh the cliches…oh, how I sound just like my mother sometimes)

Then at 8:28 I picked my lunch up off the counter and told Andie to get her shoes on for school. We have to leave promptly at 8:30 every day to get her to school and me to work on time. Just a minute she said, as she turned off the TV and headed into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. Oh, and she needed to pack her lunch and could I just sign this permission slip for her to play rugby while I was standing there waiting anyways? This is when my blood pressure got so high that steam came squirting out of my ears and a high-pitched, loud scream came shooting out of my lungs. She was grounded! The TV was never to be on in the mornings ever again! Did she think we had time to spare! Didn’t she think of anyone but herself! We’re late, we’re late, for a very important date!

(and the TV thing? Yeah, right!)

The boy flashed me a look that could kill as he slammed out the front door and then stomped across the grass, his shoulders hunched and his fists tight with anger. The van was silent and the air was thick on the way to school. Instead of the typical I love yous and have a good days, there was only a slam of the car door and the back of a very angry blonde head as she stamped across the road.

As I drove to work my body temperature slowly simmered down and the only heat I felt was the eventual embarrasment that spread across my cheeks as I realized that I hadn’t handled things well. I’d let the time get away from me once again this morning and we’d all been pushed into a frenzied rush…one where it was easy for me to get angry over the stupid little things. I hadn’t told the kids I loved them before school. I hadn’t even said goodbye, have a great day. As I sat in traffic this morning I realized that even though I have over sixteen years experience at this job of Parenting, I’m still not very good at it. No wonder they’ve never given me a raise.

Advertisements

2 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by CanadianCarrie on April 14, 2008 at 7:32 pm

    AMEN Sista!

    Reply

  2. Oh lordy, can I join the “Sucky Mom Club”? I’ve been at it for the same length of time and I just don’t get it either. Right there with ya sista!

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: