Monday, December 21, 2009

Just call me Kate (or Shrew if you want to get technical)

Most days in my life are pretty good. Sure, I don’t love every moment, but I generally have pretty good days. Until I don’t, and then they are the worst.

So that is how I found myself on Friday standing in the snow wearing no coat digging through a 5 foot snowbank next to my driveway while verbally reaming my four year old who stood equally coatless and crying in the snow.

Awesome! How does that come to pass? Well, let me tell you. I started the day out relatively nice with a few hours to myself to kill. I went for a lovely, lovely run outside the moment I got home from driving our preschool carpool. I didn’t want my run to end, and by the time I got through the next few hours, I wished it wouldn’t have.

Minutes after I walked in the door from my run, I got a call from work that let me know that a mailing that I was in charge of was having problems. Or rather, the place that needed to mail the mailing couldn’t find the file I created which contained the address information for over 35,000 people. It took me an hour of frantic phone calls to people who either a – didn’t answer their phone or b – answered but couldn’t do anything about it before I got it resolved. Nothing like the possibility of a major screw up at work to make your day start out right.

After solving that problem, I finally started my Friday chores right around the time that Thomas got home from school. Ben and his friend Brooklyn were playing outside in the snow. Ben had taken Thomas’ Batman figure and a power ranger figure out with him, and he and Brooklyn were burying Batman and power ranger in a snowbank by the driveway. After a few minutes of letting Batman be buried, they unburied him and repeated the process. When Thomas got home, he FREAKED OUT that his brother was playing with Batman. You know how kids are. They won’t play with a toy for an entire year, and then suddenly they can’t live without it and take it everywhere. So it has been with Batman lately. So, in the face of freaking out Thomas and sobbing Ben, I stuck up for Ben and told Thomas that Ben would take care of Batman and got Thomas to agree to let Ben continue playing. In the meantime, Brooklyn came inside and Ben stayed outside, and the next door neighbor boy (age 9) ensued playing my 4 year old’s game.

You know where this is going, right? I went out to bring Ben inside after a few minutes. I found a snowy power ranger and no Batman. I asked Ben, “Where is Batman?” He says he doesn’t know. The boy from next door decides to go home, and so I am left trying to find Batman with Ben. I completely lost it and found myself asking Ben repeatedly “Where is Batman????” I was digging through the snow (which I mentioned was 5 feet high and about 10 feet around.) Everywhere I dug, I found only white snow. I noticed the neighbor boy watching from his porch, and so I asked him once if he had played with Batman, to which he shook his head no. So I continued asking and asking Ben where the stupid toy was (did you drop him on the ground? Did you bury Batman? Did you bury Batman over here? Over here? Over HERE?? Did Batman grow legs and walk away?) I kept getting different answers, because under pressure, my son will find any port in a storm. He kept saying that yes, he buried Batman. Then it would be he dropped him on the sidewalk. I could not pin him down to any one story, so I kept madly digging in the snow and torturing my child with the same question. I sounded as shrewish as any fish wife in history, and the entire neighborhood was my audience. I didn’t care. All I knew was that I had stuck up for Ben, only to later have to stick up for Thomas when Ben didn’t take care of the toy put into his care.

Finally, Ben finally broke down. I realized what a terrible mother I was when I saw my son, coatless, shoeless (at least his socks were dry), pants soaking wet, finally crumple into giant tears that he didn’t know where Batman was and that I was no longer his favorite Mommy.

I relented and let him go inside. I burned off some of my anger while cleaning my bathrooms. I was just starting to settle down when someone knocked on the door. I answered it, and there stood the next door neighbor boy with a story that he “saw” a black thing in the snow bank and it turned out to be Batman. A soggy, snow covered Batman was in his palm. I looked at him, exhausted from my day and simply grateful for him giving it back (regardless of the truth) and told him thank you after taking Batman back.

So, if you happened to see me acting like a crazy lady with a snow shovel on Friday afternoon, now you know why.

4 comments:

Jeanette said...

I missed the drama, but there is a reason I say no every time my kids ask to play with the nine year old I'm thinking of (I'm assuming it's the same one) because things NEVER go well when they play with him. (Crossing my fingers it wasn't MY nine year old that did this LOL)

Becky K said...

No, it wasn't yours. I was hoping to make it VERY clear it wasn't yours! Yeah, things are fun with him, aren't they?

Ginger said...

Welcome to my world. :)

Apryl said...

ARGH!!! KIDS! We love you, but you make us crazy. Love, your mothers.