Thursday, November 12, 2009

Fix It!

won asked me "What is the first thing you do in the morning when you wake up? (By the way, check out her blog because she's one of the bravest people I have ever Inter-met.)

On good mornings, I roll over and listen to Joel babble to himself on the monitor. As he sings his "Da Da" song to himself, I pray. I ask God to set my heart up right--to make me a patient, wise, loving mother. To be creative with my actions and slow to anger. To be purposeful in my parenting,  in the moment with my children. I pray for our safety and health, and thank God for the opportunities He will provide for me this day.

Then, I get up and brush my teeth, put in my contacts, and go upstairs to release my monkeys from their cages welcome my children to another day of fun and frolic.

On bad mornings, though, the first thing I do is think, "Are you kidding me?" This morning, for example, involved Owen banging into my room, yelping, "Hea-lup! Hea-lup! MOMMY!! MOMMY! Fix It! Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiix Itttttttttt!"

"What's going on, Buddy?" I mumbled into my pillow.

Owen turned on the light, like he was playing Bad Cop to my perp. Advanced Interrogation Tactics? Owen's all over 'em. "Mommy. Get up! The sun is out! Get up! Fix Ittttttttt."

Sighing deeply, I asked, "What, Owen. What? What! What do you need?"

"The school book is lost. I can't find it anywhere. Fiiiiiix Ittttttttttttttt!" Imagine a concert of preschool violinists. Now imagine that instead of bows, the children are playing their violins with feral cats. Now throw hysterical weeping into the mix. That's close to the tone and timbre of his voice.

Stalling was the only way to combat such evil. I mumbled, "I think I saw it by the coffee table. Go look for it."

I heard him stomp away, and mumbled the real prayer that I say most mornings, "Help me, help me, help me."

As I said my Cliff Notes prayer, I listened to Owen's monologue. "That's not the book. That's not the book either. I'm hungry. I'm going to make some peanut butter toast and then go wake up Joely." I sighed to myself, and rested in bed for a few minutes more.

That is, until I heard Owen say, "I'll just plug in the toaster oven and get out this knife."

With that, I was out of bed. I was prepared to do many things today, but taking Owen to the hospital to "fix" his electric shock was not one of them.

So, another day began, turbo-charged by minor hysteria and possible bloodletting. The coffee may have yet done its job, but a strong shot of adrenaline proved to be almost as robust.


Jen said...

Just wait til your kids are old enough to set the alarm to get up for school. But then somehow they end up in your bed hours before said clocks goes off. In the middle of your wonderful dream you hear this incessant beeping in a far off place. It, of course, does not wake up the kids or hubby, only little ole you. This morning, after a repeat scenario for 4 days, I just got up and enjoyed a quiet (and hot) cup of coffee.How's your weather?

Melani said...

Well at least you pray before you get out of bed on good mornings! I think I will try that tomorrow morning...see I learn a lot from your blog, your still a teacher!

kys said...

I wake up and ask myself why in the world I'm getting up so early. Lay there for 5 minutes, get up, start the coffee pot, and jump in the shower. If I don't have an hour to myself before the kids get up, the day goes to Hell. (faster than usual)

erika said...

I love the image of you listening to Joel babble on the monitor while praying for your family. You are such a good mommy :)

Caution Flag said...

Erika's right: you are a good mom. Those first early moments can be so sweet sometimes.

I don't wear contacts, but my daughter opens her eyes and in go the contacts. How do you all do that when you're so tired?

Anonymous said...

Thanks for stopping by! There's nothing like waking up to the demands of your children. Long ago were the days of sleeping 'till noon and eating cold pizza for breakfast. Now it's "fix it!!!" or in my case, "Mama, I go poo poo!!!" Which he hasn't. My kid loves poo and he needs to share that with me, what can we do?

Corrie Howe said...

These kind of morning are hard. I don't like these kinds of morning. And for the most part, I'm past them. Yeah! Your time will come, in about five years.