Perspective Here we are in route to school. The morning ritual brings me to my knees as I find myself exhausted by the time we leave for school. When I drop Mary Margaret off, I exhale every day as her teacher lifts her from that car seat. GOD BLESS Mary Margarets teachers at EDS. They are my lifelines. I am sure they are hers too . No Senior Mama can compete with all the learning and fun at that special pre-school. #grateful His Lordship escapes every morning to 7AM Mass about the time all the fun begins. Bless his heart. Says he needs the grace and I need prayer. Got that right. Mary Margaret is not a morning person. So theres the battle to get her out of bed. There are physical and verbal protests that strike me like nails on a chalkboard. Next, there is the argument over going potty. I win. Then my morning nemesis objects to breakfast. Threats to punish, withhold chocolate, or tell Daddy later lead me to another victory. But then I have to deliver most spoonfuls myself as I fight more resistance and explain for the zillionth time why I can have Co cola for breakfast (#survival), but she cant. (Okay, a sip or two for incentives wont hurt, right? We have a pact not to tell Daddy). Next comes getting Mary Margaret dressed. She RUNS away from me laughing wildly. #catandmouse I am furious. Happens every morning. OMG help me. Its exasperating to have to catch a 3 year old at nearly 50 and get her dressed without much cooperation. (Note to self: get over the guilt of not getting her a dog. Could put me over the edge.) Next comes the hair. No Mama. That hurts. I want the soft brush. You are killing me. (No, shes killing me...a slow death...Jim better be praying over there at Mass. ) The little stinker takes off running again. Do I hear a snicker from my teenagers room where I delivered special order breakfast with bacon? I hope not. My chest is getting tight. My blood is boiling. That Princess backpack has legs of its own. Disappeared from the shelf. I ask MM about it. She says, Mama, Swiper took it to Doras Enchanted Forest. We got to go there to get it back. Dear God, its 40 minutes into my day. I feel like I need to return to the bed. Though she and her classmates are studying bears, MM wont agree to take her bear back pack instead. Bribes, I mean incentives, arent working. Harry (the suffed Wolf) will be lonely in the lost one. Hits just keep on coming. Seems we left the Princess back pack in the car yesterday. Amazing Grace. Once lost, now found. I believe. Somehow I coral Mary Margaret into her car seat. Mama, I fink you forgot your bra, and your didnt brush your hair. Observant. I rushed back into the house to get my coffee. Forget the damn bra. Am I cursing now? My Mama says Southern ladies nevah evah curse. Who said, Mamas always right? I know I made coffee. Cant find it. Well, I guess Swiper put it in the refrigerator. Did I really do that?! I cant catch a break. Tonight Macons Stratford Eagles take on Augustas Aquinas Irish Nation. In route to EDS, we begin to discuss watching Sissy cheer tonight at the game against my alma mater. Mary Margaret asks which team I will cheer for since Mama went to Stratford 100 years ago when you was a little girl? Really?! I may not have any energy left to cheer by 7:30 pm. I know this: His Lordship will be on duty tonight at the football game . By himself. Last Friday a bee stung me at the game , and I had to chase Mary Margaret as she took off from the cheerleading area to join the players on the field. She protested that her friend, #3 Jofus (Joseph Neal ) was out there. Said they needed to connect. I am doing the best I can is my response to onlookers ... some amused, others shaking their heads. The bee sting was killing me, and Jim and I were arguing over whose turn it was to corral our 3 year old next. Jim thought is was fine for Mary Margaret to scrape her white tennis shoes in the orange dirt and then paint it into her shoes with her wet index finger. Not okay with me. We left at half time. Jim, I mean His Lordship, is 57. My hair stylist Erica claims to see some gray emerging in my roots. Shes going blind. It happens. I graduated from my 1.25s to 1.5s in 6 short months. I was looking for them this morning. Mary Margaret found them on my head. I pick up my cherub at 12:30 from school. Yesterday she informed me that she has a boyfriend named Jack. Mrs. SmiFF confirmed her account at carpool. Mary Margaret says she likes his face and that she rubbed it softly with her fingers in the carpool line. She said it was good that I was in the back of the line. More time with Jack. She says they play tag together. Mama, I let Jack catch me. Thats the best part. I said, What?! You need to run faster. You need to win. She says , I do win when Jack catches me. I suppose winning is a matter of perspective.
Posted on: Fri, 19 Sep 2014 14:47:24 +0000
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