This morning, as Jacelyn and I were getting ready, she was quite whiny and fussy. "But...but...
but mommy,"....and then she paused, dramatically gasping for air and choking back sobs...."I don't like these socks". What? And that was the first thing she said when I woke her up. All morning, she was like that. And slow, slow, slow. Just in the time it took her to eat one small waffle (less the two or three bites that I took - that's the mommy tax - known more commonly as the french fry tax - and applies to anything I am preparing for her or have purchased for her), I: ate a bagel, drank a cup of coffee, made her bed and picked up her room, made my bed and picked up my room, took a shower and got dressed, started the car and got the ice off the windshield, put an ice pack in her lunchbox and put it into her backpack, and then put her backpack and my purse in the car. If I said it once, I said it one hundred gazillion times this morning: "Jacelyn, if you don't hurry, we are going to be late".
I had laid her clothes out, and asked her if she would get dressed while I did the dishes. She begrudgingly agreed and then proceeded to stand in front of the television. "Get dressed " I commanded, from my vantage point at the sink. "If you don't hurry we are going to be late". I am always amazed by the ability of dishes to seemingly reproduce in great number while sitting idly in the sink. I had a bagel for breakfast, plain, and didn't even use a plate. She had a waffle, but that doesn't require much preparation. There were four spoons, two knives, two cups, her plate, and two coffee mugs. WTF? I washed dishes and barked orders into the living room, where it seemed Jacelyn had been stricken deaf, or at least could only hear at the frequency of 'Ed, Edd, & Eddie'. I paused while washing the coffee pot and stomped into the living room, turning off the TV and leaving the remote slightly soapy. She protested and lunged for the remote, I put the remote on top of the TV (and then forgot to move it back down again, which will prompt a panicky phone call from my MIL later: "Val, I can't find the remote. You might have to come home"). I said again, "If you don't hurry, we are going to be late".
I returned to the dishes, leaving my cranky daughter to dress. She pulled her nightgown up over her head but not off it and then proceeded to bumble around and yell, "I'm stuck! My head is too big and I'm stuck and I can't see HHHEEEELLLLPPPP!", all the while staggering around with her arms out in front of her like some zombie, and then walked straight into a wall. I did what any caring, loving mother would do: laughed out loud. She staggered into the kitchen and I yanked the nightgown off of her head. She sniveled and returned to living room, where she did the same thing while putting on her shirt: "I'm stuck and I can't see HHHEEEE...." was as far as she got before I pulled the shirt down the rest of the way and sent her in to finish dressing. I threw the last clean dish into the drainer at 7:28 (we have to leave the house by 7:30 to be at school on time). Jacelyn was standing by the sofa, picking her nose.
I marched into the living room and stuffed Jacelyn into her clothes. She considered protesting the way I rolled her sweatshirt sleeves up but thought better of it. I got her into her shoes and threw her hair into a hasty ponytail, which I will hear about later: "Her hair looked horrible, what did you do?". I sent her off to wait by the door, threw her robe and blanket into her room and laid out her karate uniform for later, and then found her standing in the kitchen in front of the open fridge. "OUT!" I ordered. We were in the car by 7:36. Damn it.
I sped as much as I dared. Jacelyn, suddenly contrite and very sanctimonious, was on my side: "That guy is going to make us late if he doesn't go faster, huh mommy" she would say. We pulled into the parking lot just as the bell rang, meaning I had to park and walk her up. I did so in a very hasty manner, and gently nudged her into the hands of her room assistant. And what did I hear her say as I walked back to the car? "I'm sorry, Mrs. May, my mommy made me late".
Yo, I am so out. Y'all have fun and be careful and I'll blog when I get back about the fantastic, interesting, educational, refreshing time I had.