Spawnling, we need to talk.
And yes, it's about our relationship.
We've been seeing each other – every single day without fail - for a little over three years now, right? And don't get me wrong, I love it. I mean, you're an amazing guy. Funny, sensitive, cute, well-dressed. Well, except when you dress yourself, which makes you look a bit like a Hawaiian clown. Still, nothing makes me happier than walking down the street hand-in-hand with you, my darling. I'm proud to call you mine.
Except for days like today, when I have to run away – far away from your now thankfully sleeping self – in an attempt to reclaim some balance and sanity.
Take right now, for example. I'm at my favourite little cafe, drowning myself in some half-decaf blend of fair-traded beans and trying to forget the last 12.5 hours of absolute mayhem. I'm attempting to remind myself that, thankfully, you had this horrendous day after my last contract was over, because trying to balance writing a bunch of articles with today's attitude would have been a feat for even the most powerful mother. And I think you slipped some Kryptonite into my cereal this morning, because I'm feeling like anything but a superhero tonight.
It's not your fault, really. You didn't plan the day trip to Peterborough, Ontario yesterday for your great-grandma's 90th birthday. You couldn't have anticipated how much sugar and artificial colours I would let you eat for dinner in the name of picking my battles. How were you to know that Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs would be as captivating the 155th time around, thus keeping you awake the entire ride home? Falling asleep at 10PM wasn't your doing, my love. And waking up at 7:45 this morning because your teen brother desperately needed to shower in the room next to yours? Entirely understandable.
So you started off on the wrong foot today – I get that. I know how these bad starts can snowball into larger, more catastrophic events.
But, Darling... dumping out every single Cranium card onto the living room floor? Mauling our elderly cat's tail as he's sleeping soundly on the bed? Cornering the 10 pound dog into the kitchen cupboards with a chair? Chasing your brothers around with toys intended to make contact with their persons? Calling your aunt a “stupidhead”?
Not exactly my favourite moments of your lifetime.
But if I were asked to pick a lowlight of the day, I'd have a very difficult time. I think I'd have to narrow it down to the following choices:
- This evening, when you ran away from me in the parking lot of the splash park – stark naked and screaming “Don't grab me!”
- This afternoon when you said “I'm sorry” over and over before I even walked into the bathroom (following a bubblegum scent) only to discover the brand new SpongeBob toothpaste smeared across the sink and all over your hands
- At Starbucks, (the only outing I would consider, and only because there was coffee involved) with the constant whining of “I want a cookie! All I want is a cookie! Where's my cookie, Mommy?!” that attracted so much empathy from the barista that she not only gave you your cookie, but handed me a bag and said “And this one is for mommy” with a look of you poor, poor woman.
The minute your horned little head hit the pillow tonight, I about burst out crying in relief and joy. I think Jesus, Buddha, Allah and Mother Earth all got together to pull off that one amazing miracle. Thanks, guys. You are now on my Non-Denominational Commercially-Driven Holiday Season greeting card list.
Anyway, back to our relationship: We need to work a few things out.
First of all, you have to get a full night's sleep so I have a hope in hell of keeping my wits about me tomorrow.
B) The words “Please,” “Thank you” and “Mommy is the most awesome woman alive” had better be in your vocabulary, while “Stupid,” “Stupidhead,” “NO!” and “I'm going to [insert attention-getting, destructive/aggressive action here]” must not be uttered.
3) For the love of all things good and right in the world, please don't ask me for sugar, because you're not getting any. Furthermore, there will be nothing colourful in your diet that isn't grown in a field or orchard. We will not be having a repeat of today, mister.
The good thing about this otherwise dreadful day – by far the worst disobedience day since Gutsy went loco at the family reunion in Toronto three years ago – is that it will be over soon. Also, I took myself out on a well-deserved coffee date with my new friend, Mr. Macbook. Don't be jealous, Spawn. Sure, he may be young, gorgeous, and have the battery life of a God, but it's not like I get to see him when you're awake, anyway. Between the hours of 8AM and 8PM, I am solely your bitch mom.
Be nicer tomorrow, k? Love you.