You know, wake up and have the first thought in my head be, "It's Valentine's Day! Wouldn't it be fun to make the kids some special heart shaped pancakes?" instead of, "It is 6 frickin' 45 in the morning. Why are my kids up running around like hooligans?
Here begins Act II entitled "The Guilt Kicks In." As I slowly gain more consciousness I feel badly about not having more nurturing instincts, but you must know the back story - the reasons why the last 24 hours have left me operating at 60% capacity.
Yesterday morning began with my daughter whining about why it is unfair that I think it is unrealistic to, less than 24 hours away from Valentine's Day because she's waited until the last minute to make her Valentine Box, create a box using 27 milk cartons that she hasn't collected yet, gluing them together and decorating them to make customized mail boxes for each of her classmates. I know, I'm awful for squelching her creativity. So sue me. After several minutes of what would rank as a 2 minus on the Warren Scale of Whining Intensity (I will reveal this scale on my next post - hopefully not in 4 months time) I was able to get her excited about creating an iPhone Valentine box and quell the whining.
Also, I was teaching 3rd graders all day yesterday Immediately following the school day I had a parent teacher conference for my son and then went directly to a kid's mentoring program my children and I attend/ volunteer for on Wednesday nights. It was our Valentine Party night and with our highest kid attendance, two adults being absent and not getting home until 8:00, plus the accumulation of all the day's activities, I felt like I had just been at an upspeak convention for the entire day. Exhausting!! But, wait! That's not all! I have an hour and half of making my daughter's Valentine Box, before I can partake in a much needed glass of Pinot Noir.
Cut to the next morning....
Apparently 6.5 hours of sleep wasn't enough recovery time for me to refuel for the beginning of this day. Which leads me back to my son and his PhD level whining skills. Before you read what transpired this morning, here is a brief outline for my son's technique. A technique, I'm convinced would achieve peace in the Middle East. Just put those Middle Eastern leaders in a room with my son and his whining and tell them they can't leave the room until they've figured out how to get along. Bing! Crisis solved. You're welcome.
He goes for a three pronged attack - The 3 R's of whining. These approaches are laced throughout with an increase in volume that grows at set rate of 2 dB per complaint.
Repeat the original complaint (OC) at least 5 times as parental unit attempts to explain why things are not the way he wants them to be.
Build on the OC with other related complaints - either by topic or time at which the OC occurred.
Start randomly inserting other complaints that have nothing to do with the source of the OC.
D: Can I play my video game?
Me: There's just not enough time because the bus will be here pretty soon.
D: But I didn't get to play my video game at aaallll yesterday! (Begin heavy whining accent until for the rest of the exchange)
Me: But you did get to go to a very fun Valentine party and being around nice people is more important than video games.
D: I didn't even get to play with anything, not even toys yesterday!
Me: Remember how dad let you have extra play time in the shower last night?
D: Well that was just a little bit and I didn't even have my toys.
Me: Stop whining.
D: I'm supposed to bring my balloon for the 100 days of school to school today!
Me: We have not had time to do it. We will do it tonight.
D: If I don't bring it, my teacher won't be able to put it in my scrapbook!
Me: I will explain to your teacher that you will bring it tomorrow.
D: But I need it today! Can't we just do it!
Me: The bus is coming in 2 minutes we don't have time.
D: All we have to do is write the things I can do since I've been in school 100 days.
Me: And color it and cut it out. We don't have time.
D: You can do it. (Whine, whine)
Me: No, I can't. The bus is coming.
D: But I need to bring it!
Me: What am I going to say?
I won't go on. I can barely type this conversation without going crazy reliving it. :)
He kept on until the bus game, squeezing out some tears and I just sent him with a letter to his teacher explaining why the balloon will go with him to school tomorrow. Problem solved for now.
As he walked down the driveway I, through clenched teeth and a forced smile, sputtered, "Happy Valentine's Day."
After he was on his less than merry way to school, I checked his last newsletter from school because I seemed to remember that he didn't need to bring in his balloon until tomorrow, anyways. I was right. So, at least we argued for no reason. There's that.
Something endearing that he did this morning, (because of course I love him to the moon and back despite his ability to suck the will to live out of me) was dress up for Valentine's day. He normally goes for the most comfortable clothing possible. If I haven't done laundry for a few days, his pants drawer is entirely populated with jeans because he uses his sweat and track pants first. He also never selects collared shirts. He also spends a good percentage of his days commando, which is the subject of another post all together. So there he is, in his khaki dress pants and his red plaid dress shirt. I did have to remind him to put on his underwear. As he laughs impishly, Oh ho ho, I forgot!" Mm hmm.
Additionally, my daughter's iPhone Valentine Box was pretty bitchin.'
Not through clenched teeth this time... Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!