My four year old tattled on me today.
It was a ‘Monday’ in every sense of the word. I didn’t sleep well last night because, despite my fondness of the changing weather patterns, my sinuses can’t handle dramatic shifts from cold to warm. I woke mostly in a fog of tiny voices clamoring for food and God. We have a children’s bible, and while the boys are quiet for the 10 minutes their inhaling their breakfast, I read whatever the next chapter for the day is. AJ has affectionately named the book “God”, and seeing as how all of his sentences currently only consist of one word. Our day starts much like this….
“Mom”, “Mommy”, “Mama” (Approximately 56 times, more if I’m choosing to ignore his desperate pleas for freedom from his crib). The moment he’s lifted from his crib, the sentence shifts to “Oats”…. which he’ll say the ENTIRE time I’m making his oatmeal. As soon as he’s in his high chair, with oats in front of him, we get “God”. Then I read, and usually as soon as I put the book down, he’ll say “gen” (AKA: Again).
When I put the book down today, I realized there was still roughly half a bowl of food in front of each boy, so I mumbled something to Caleb about helping AJ down when he was done, and slunk back to my bed hoping to lay for just a bit longer, willing the fog to lift. Maybe 3 minutes later, Logan was at my door ready for his ‘reading lesson’. It’s not often (or ever) in the 3 weeks since I’ve started teaching him how to read that he’s come to ME. I tried to convince him doing the lesson in mama’s bed would be fun, but somehow he understood that I wasn’t feeling well and associated my sickness with laying down in bed… he would have none of it. So I pulled myself up again and wandered out to the couch.
His lesson and our morning went well. The fog never lifted, so I wasn’t super productive in the areas that I wanted to be, but some school work got done, the boys played for a bit, and I worked and got a few things cleaned. We took advantage of the sun for lunch at the park outside (mostly because I’d just washed the kitchen table, and vacuumed all the crumbs up, and realized I’d have to do that again if they ate there).
I had high hopes for the afternoon. AJ and Logan would take a nap, Cub would work quietly on his math for a bit then head outside to play, I’d take a conference call, finish cleaning the kitchen, then maybe even lie down for a few minutes myself. It sounded great…. Until Cub wasn’t having it with his math. We’ve entered this phase, where when the going get’s tough…. the tough just stop and complain about how hard it got, rather than working through the steps they’ve been taught. So I answered a few questions…. retaught a few steps…. answered a few more questions…. then realized this game was going to continue until I did all of his work. Uh-uh…. ain’t happening. I took the hard line, explained that I’ve worked a few examples and he needed to do some as well. He balked. The stand off began. Almost seven years in, I’d think he’d realize mama can STAND OFF. Though even I have my limits… approximately 3 hours after the stand-off began I made the comment, “Get your friggen book and get your butt down stairs, NOW!” If he wanted to throw his fit, that was one thing…. me listening to it any longer was entirely other.
Dad got home about 15 minutes later.
We exchanged our hello’s, I told him Caleb was not to be disturbed until his homework was done, and he went to change his clothes. About 3 minutes later he’s back in the kitchen letting me know that Logan had ratted me out. It went something like this; “Logan told me what happened…. He said ‘Caleb wasn’t listening, so mama said ‘Get your friggen book and get your butt down stairs, NOW!'” I was torn between elated and horrified…. despite staggering evidence that would suggest NONE of my children hear anything I say, Logan repeated verbatim my exact line. However, he failed to recount that for the previous 8 hours, despite a sinus induced fog, I kept 3 children alive, well fed, happy, educated, and somewhat disciplined, managed to not let them totally destroy the house, and be fairly present for my paying job as well.
I know Kev know’s already….but it WOULD be nice, if rather than my 15 minute failure, one of these days they recounted the other several hours instead. One can hope.