2 Storms
The weather service will tell you that November and December are typically our stormiest months. So far this year, I just heard, the pattern is more intense than usual. We are only getting a day inbetween storm fronts. We had a reprieve on Saturday but another one blew in yesterday and this morning it was, oh, what's the phrase?...blowing up a storm. Lights were flickering and while we didn't lose power, the server went down. And you know how Mommy hates to lose her email. The giant tarp that is covering The Neighbor's poor, pitiful house was billowing and slapping around and I had visions of it coming loose and covering our house.
But while it is still cold, the winds have died down, the server is back up and people are hammering at The Neighb's so the tarp has now been rolled back. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that they get the walls and roof on today so they can take down that big, scary thing.
Have I mentioned that The Child is a drama queen? She would NOT get up this morning. I took her coffee, as I'm wont to do and, speaking in dulcet tones, encouraged her to open her eyes and greet the day. She was having none of it.
The Cat was on her, she couldn't move. I moved the cat.
She was too tired and it was all papa's fault because he opened her door at 6am and she couldn't get back to sleep. I told her we were giving a ride to a friend and she had to get up anyway.
She was very grumpy. She sat up but she wouldn't get up. She started wishing the storm would blow out the power so she wouldn't have to go to school. And on and on and on.
I was going about my morning business, stopping from time to time to go back to her room and check on her progress. After about the 5th time I started raising my voice. By the time she finally got her sorry arse up and dressed, I was livid.
Finally, FINALLY, ready to go, I asked where her coat was. "In the car". Fine. We get out to the car and there's no coat. I gave her the keys and she went back to find it. Mommy's brain was leaking out the left ear. Fury will do that.
And then, she comes out with a frakking sweatshirt and an "I can't find my coat". Now, there was a time when I would have "made it all better". I would have gone in myself, gotten a coat and made sure she had it on. I used to be intimidated by things like scowling school secretaries who wonder why you would send your child out in a November storm with nothing but a sweatshirt. I don't care anymore. Without a coat, she won't be allowed outside for recess. Not my problem. Without a coat, there may be those who contemplate calling CPS. Also, not my problem. She's almost freaking 13 years old. She can hang up her bloody coat so she knows where it is. If she can't find it, tough.
In her prepubescent mind the problem was resident with only one person. Wanna guess who that would be?
Happy bloody Monday.
But while it is still cold, the winds have died down, the server is back up and people are hammering at The Neighb's so the tarp has now been rolled back. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that they get the walls and roof on today so they can take down that big, scary thing.
Have I mentioned that The Child is a drama queen? She would NOT get up this morning. I took her coffee, as I'm wont to do and, speaking in dulcet tones, encouraged her to open her eyes and greet the day. She was having none of it.
The Cat was on her, she couldn't move. I moved the cat.
She was too tired and it was all papa's fault because he opened her door at 6am and she couldn't get back to sleep. I told her we were giving a ride to a friend and she had to get up anyway.
She was very grumpy. She sat up but she wouldn't get up. She started wishing the storm would blow out the power so she wouldn't have to go to school. And on and on and on.
I was going about my morning business, stopping from time to time to go back to her room and check on her progress. After about the 5th time I started raising my voice. By the time she finally got her sorry arse up and dressed, I was livid.
Finally, FINALLY, ready to go, I asked where her coat was. "In the car". Fine. We get out to the car and there's no coat. I gave her the keys and she went back to find it. Mommy's brain was leaking out the left ear. Fury will do that.
And then, she comes out with a frakking sweatshirt and an "I can't find my coat". Now, there was a time when I would have "made it all better". I would have gone in myself, gotten a coat and made sure she had it on. I used to be intimidated by things like scowling school secretaries who wonder why you would send your child out in a November storm with nothing but a sweatshirt. I don't care anymore. Without a coat, she won't be allowed outside for recess. Not my problem. Without a coat, there may be those who contemplate calling CPS. Also, not my problem. She's almost freaking 13 years old. She can hang up her bloody coat so she knows where it is. If she can't find it, tough.
In her prepubescent mind the problem was resident with only one person. Wanna guess who that would be?
Happy bloody Monday.
cobbled together by Moi at 9:52 AM
6 Comments:
Mama Mama Mama.
Bien sûr.
I am so glad those days are over. And Lorraine, sweetie, it's only just beginning. Girls in their teens....grrrrrr. Thankfully, about age 30, things really get better. :) Daughter and I are great friends now. I would never have imagined that being the case, ever, when she was 13-20. The drama...
I open the childs door so that the kitty can get in her room. Otherwise she wanders around meowing to be let in or fed or both. this only serves to arouse the dog who finds any attention given to the kitty to be highly offensive and he will run out chasing the cat around. Then he will realize that he has been in bed for a godzillian hours and demand to be let out to pee.
after which he scratches on the door wanting to be let back into the house to climb back into bed.
All at 5:45 in the AM when I am trying to get out the door to catch my bus.
Sorry boof cope.
sorry you had a frustrating morning fluffy.
And here I was feeling all warm and fuzzy after your lovely post from yesterday.
We ourselves had a bit of the "toddler morning blues." Only this time Daddy was the recipient of the toddler ire (which included a big yellow truck being thrown and bouncing off Daddy's shin).
HAPPY MONDAY, MOMMA!!!
My Mel is 17 now and l am still trying to pull her out of bed- arghh!
oh the joys of Monday mornings ;)
Nicole, Mon Dieu!
Gina, I'm moving in with you.
Guess The Cat needs to start sleeping somewhere else.
Sorry about the warm fuzzies, Jlow. Really.
Horizon, And yet, she's Perky McPerkerson at 7am on a Saturday. What gives?
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