Wednesday, November 25, 2009

The Huff

You know what that little stinker did?

She gets all P.O.ed at me for rushing her in the morning; for rousting her from her beauty sleep, for nagging her to get dressed, for trying to keep her focussed so that she can be on time for school. I reminded her again this morning that I'm not late for anything, and she's the one who will have to go to the office and tell them why she's late. (not that she's ever had to do that, and do you know why? Because I MAKE SURE SHE'S ON TIME!) While she is glaring at me, with a look she is perfecting for the teen age years, I am doing a big load of dishes, turning on the dishwasher, making her lunch, making her breakfast, putting her homework where she can see it and not forget it, letting the dog in and out and in and out, getting dressed, brushing my own damn teeth (forget about my hair) and she is yelling at me because Perry needs a belly rub RIGHT NOW and she can't possible take a break to put on her shoes.

We finally get out the door, and queen bee decides she's going to freeze me out. Can you believe that shit? She walks ten, then fifteen paces ahead while I am dealing with the dog, waiting for him to pee and sniff all the thrilling smells that have appeared since yesterday, and that little daughter of mine is walking on ahead, not looking back. She's in a huff. Oh, she's in a huff? I'LL SHOW HER WHAT A REAL HUFF LOOKS LIKE!

She waits for me to cross the street (her zeal to punish me apparently does not include a deathwish) and then she takes off again. By the time I hook the dog's leash to the tree outside the school, she's no where in sight. I had a mind to just go home and let her sweat it out, but if I did that, then today would be the day that we had a massive earthquake and I couldn't get to her, and there would be flooding and California would drop off into the sea and I'd be so guilty because I didn't hug her goodbye. So I walk to her classroom, without her, without any purpose whatsoever. She's in there taking off her backpack and she gives me a smile, one that starts as "wasn't I so funny this morning?" but quickly turns into, " Oh shit." She says, "Are you mad?" and I say, "What do you think?" and she starts rattling off apologies: "I'm sorry mommy, I'm really sorry, I'm so sorry." blah-didi-blah, and I give her a half hearted hug and kiss and leave in my own huff.

The nerve.

One of these days I'm going to tell her teacher that she is going to be late, and I'm going to let her set the pace in the morning. I will tell her once, maybe twice to get out of bed, and not nag at all the rest of the morning, maybe periodically letting her know what time it is. Then we'll be really late, and I'll walk her to the office and she'll have to face the music. Ungrateful little...

1 comment:

lama said...

You know what I'm gonna say about the connection/contrast between today's post and yesterday's, right?