Trees and Apples

I am not a morning person.  Understatement yes but true and sometimes even I am amazed that I have made it out of the house without eating my children.  Wednesday morning my daughter decided she would cut a few teeth on me.

An organized and schedule oriented woman, I try to get as much done in the evenings so that the mornings will go as smoothly as possible.  Ultimately no adjective (the good ones anyway) I have used to define myself applies since I have had children.  No matter how detailed, proactive and organized I try to be, each and every morning is a crap shoot!  One minute, walk in the park and the next, category 5 hurricane, tsunami, typhoon and a tornado all wrapped up into the perfect size twins and ripping me, my nerves and my kitchen to shreds.  Out of nowhere one or both of my children have become Sybil and I do not recognize them.  Is 41/2 the new 13 and are we getting paid back for EVERYTHING we ever did all at once?   Anyway, we pack lunches and pick out clothes for the next day just prior to going to bed.  Outfits are looked over and given the 4 year old seal of approval.  My son says, “Mommy I will wear whatever you pick out for me as long as it doesn’t have pictures or writing on it, please DON'T make me wear that stuff!”  Those are terms I can certainly live with, thanks for the easy button moment.  My daughter is not this easy.  It is now clear to me that the only reason I pick out clothing the night before (she is given several outfits from which to choose) is to knock one thing off my list, therefore feeling that I have accomplished something, when in reality all I have accomplished is an exercise in futility.  4 out of 5 mornings she is going to pitch a fit about the very outfit she gave the thumbs up to 12 hours earlier.

Here is our morning

I am on day 3 of little to no sleep.  I wake them up and we go downstairs for breakfast.  My son (the happy, easy one who just likes to blend into the morning) begins to scream because he is pissed beyond repair that she is sitting in the seat he has deemed his.  He screams and cry’s until it becomes sniveling and heaving.  I begin to shake about 5 minutes in because his cry bears a striking resemblance to a whooping crane.  Maybe a tad bit more piercing and it dives into your ear drums like a hot needle.  Also because this is so out of character for him that I am never quite sure of how to take it when he goes ape shit in the morning.  He is just like his father, happy to be on the team and loving the fact that he woke up, sweetest child ever to hit this planet!  SHE looks at me with wide eyes of shock and says, “Mommy I will never treat you like that over a chair.”  I look at her and smile but say nothing because what I am thinking is well, maybe not a chair dear but you are going to treat me exactly the same over an outfit in about 5 4 3 2 1!. 

Sure enough, breakfast ends and its time to wrangle little bodies into clothes which is much like cramming 10 pounds of octopus into a 5 pound bag.  He dresses on his own and without incident but is still sniveling.  He has worked himself into an absolute mess but all signs point to a full recovery.  I on the other hand am shaking like a chihuahua and I still have the mother of all daughters left to dress.  I pull my big girl panties up, get on my battle gear and I am ready!  She now is refusing to wear the outfit.  I say, “Well then you can go to school naked.”  She looks at me and remembers a time when I tossed her into her car seat in her underwear, backed out of the garage and out of our driveway headed toward school.  We made it 2 blocks before she acquiesced and dressed.  Mommy 1, daughter goose egg..at least for the moment.  She puts on the outfit but stomped her feet and screams at me that she WILL NOT wear the socks!  We go back and forth for a few minutes and the screaming escalates.  I tell her that if she wants to wear the leopard shoes then she must either wear the pink or the green SOCKS OR she can wear her UGGS instead.  She throws a fit right there which gives me time to choke back tears, listen to the yelling to try and find a spot to interject, give up and go to her father to give him the play by play plus my outfit expectations, yes I still have expectations...she hasn't beaten me yet.  I also use this moment to exit stage left.  I gather my things and take myself downstairs and prepare to leave for work with that freaking “I argued like a defense attorney with my children this morning” lump in my throat! 

All of a sudden I realize I hear.....crickets....nothing from upstairs...the arguing has stopped.  This lets me know that she has worked a deal, it’s on the table and daddy is considering the terms.  I stand still waiting for my husband to call out for me, which he does almost immediately   “HONEY!”  I answer, “Yes dear.” Long pause while he thinks of how to display his query in the best of ways.

“Is it ok with you if she just wears the tennis shoes?”       again.....crickets....quiet!

 I shake my head but don’t say anything and by the time I have time to open my mouth to answer him, he is standing in front of me and looking right at me.  He says, “Did you hear me?”  I say, “of course I heard you, my hostage negotiation skills suck but my ears work just fine.”  He is looking me in the eye, tilts his head like a puppy and says, “well………..is it……..ok?”  I smile a smile of defeat! uncle! She got me, she did it through her daddy but she got me and she knows it because she has not come downstairs and she is....crickets.....quiet....silent! 

Pushing back tears because I am sad that we argued, I miss her when I am not with her, am amazed at and proud of the smart person this little girl is becoming and also because I realize she is the apple that didn’t fall far from the tree that is me.  She is like me in good ways and bad, weak and strong.  He asks me again, "WEEEELL, is it ok with you?" I answer, “I lost a battle I should never have waged but yes, it is fine.”  He asks me “Then why are you smiling?”  I think he already knows.  I look at him and say, “because she never gives out and she never gives in, she just changes her mind.”