Mom's First Meal

Yesterday the kids had a case of the SLOWS in the morning, meaning even though they wear the same outfits every day, three of them needed directives about their attire. One sat looking at a lifeless television screen, as if willing it to begin entertaining. Turning off the cable box had thwarted the plans to watch cartoons but she still watched the television machine itself.

Putting a blanket over the TV, I explained that after years and years of going to the same school and wearing a uniform, getting dressed should not require much thought.

When my son came down with his shirt inside out and poorly buttoned, I revised my prior statement. It still requires SOME.

A second child came down in her pj's and sat in a chair, imitating the older one's actions. Annoyed at having a follower, the first child snapped, "You can't just sit down in the morning and mope and do nothing."

When I pointed out she was doing the same thing, her response was, "Well, I was doing it first! She's copying me."

You know how baby ducks imprint on whatever they see first and imitate that creature's behavior. Well, I keep wondering what impression I must have left all those years ago. Perhaps there was a flat screen tv in the delivery room that I missed that they mistook for me.

Now we were getting to crunch time. Five kids needed lunch made. Five kids needed breakfast. Having collected the socks for all those going to school, I spied a daughter working in the kitchen. The stove was on and a pot boiling. Cooking???? in the morning???? "What are you making?"

"Pasta for lunch."
Meaning she didn't like any of the lunch meats available for sandwiches and since they've outlawed peanutbutter, I get early morning dinner dishes.

So I turned to breakfast and began working the toaster. Two waffles. Two waffles. Two waffles. Two waffles...out of waffles...how about raisin bread. There are three slices left. Two slices of raisin bread. Butter, butter, no butter, only butter, butter. Syrup. Syrup. Syrup. Syrup...oops. That was the only butter. A child cries. I have defiled his waffles. He agrees to swap out for the raisin bread.

The other child is okay with the substitution but begins picking all the raisins out. I give her plain toast with butter and put the plate of refused raisin toast at the table for the toddler set who have yet to dine. The younger toddler refuses raisin toast and pounds the de-raisined raisin toast with her fist. The older preschooler decides since the first refused to follow suit.

Why can't anyone "copy" me in something like making a bed, doing dishes or wiping a table instead of watching a dead television set, sitting and moping or pounding the daylights out of a perfectly fine before buttered piece of breakfast?

And so it was that around 8:30, when the baby and both daughters not in school had finally finished eating and been dressed for the day, that Mom finally got her first meal of the day. You guessed it, the Raisin Bread rejected by everyone else.

Only Mom can manage to get leftovers before 9 a.m. But now I know why no one copies me.