I’m the meanest mom in the world. It’s official. This morning it was Boy #2 who bestowed this honor on me. Why, you may ask? What did I do to be worthy of such a title? Did I make him eat All-Bran instead of Cocoa Pebbles? Did I tell him he had to pick up his dirty underwear off the kitchen floor? No–worse. I’m almost too ashamed to even put it in print…Almost.
Here goes. *gulp* I would not let him crawl out his bedroom window (which is on the second floor, mind you) and jump down from the roof. I know, I know. I’m too strict, aren’t I? I’m probably injuring his self-esteem by telling him no…Wow, I really am so mean.
You may be thinking, “This can’t be true. She just made this up because she couldn’t think of anything to write about today.” Well, you’re partly right. I was struggling last night with what I should write about next…so many ideas but none of them really jumping up and down waving their arms going, “Me! Me! Pick me!” That was, until this morning. Leave it up to my kids to provide me with material so rich that the posts practically write themselves. The truth, cliche as it may be, is: I couldn’t make up this s@#t if I tried!
So back to the argument about jumping out the window (Doesn’t every mother have this argument with their 6-year-old? Isn’t it a rite of passage, kind of like arguing with your kid about when she/he can get her/his ears pierced —I am so PC!— or engaging in negotiations about curfews?).
This all started a few nights ago when I was reading a book about firefighters to Boy #2 and Boy #3. I THOUGHT I was being a good mom by initiating the conversation about what we should do in the case of a fire in our house. A house in our neighborhood had recently been destroyed in a fire, so the need for creating a “fire plan” for our family was all too real. So I told Boy #2 that if he couldn’t get out his door, he should climb out the window and wait on the roof for the firefighters to help him down. It was such an innocent comment. Little did I know that it would morph into something ugly and loud a few days later.
Seriously, I told him to get his shoes on and come outside so I could take him and his brother to school. His reply? “I’ll meet you outside. I’m going to go out my window.”
WHAT???!??? At first I thought he was kidding, because my kids often think it’s fun to say things just to stress me out. Then I realized that he was serious–dead serious– or at least jump-off-the-roof-and-break-your-leg-and-get-
“You can’t jump out the window! What the heck are you thinking?” I so patiently said to #2.
“But you told me I could jump out my window!” he yelled back.
“Yeah, if there’s a FIRE in our house and you can’t use the doors!” I hollered, checking my watch to see just HOW late we’d be this morning.
“Well, I’ll just pretend there’s a fire!” he said.
“You can’t jump out your window! Did you hear me? You will BREAK YOUR LEG! Seriously, why are you being soooo irrational?”
“What’s irrational mean?”
(Why did I use the word irrational with a six-year-old??) “It means you aren’t making sense. Now get your shoes on and GET TO THE VAN!”
“No! I’m not going to school if you don’t let me jump out the window!”
“So I’m going to call your teacher and tell her that you refuse to come to school because I won’t let you crawl out your window and jump down a story off the roof and hurt yourself? Good plan!” (If you’re wondering, NO, I NEVER use sarcasm with my kids. NEVER.)
So on the argument went, and if you’re wondering, yes, I did eventually win. ..If you call winning wasting 10 minutes on a fight about jumping out a window (an argument I’m sure half the neighborhood heard), throwing a six-year-old into a van with his brothers and a dog, peeling out of my driveway, and driving like a maniac (or a manic mom) to the school (only coming to “rolling stops” at stop signs), realizing I was so flustered I didn’t even put a bra on…
Such was my morning. At least it gave me something to write about… Is 9:48 too early to start drinking?