Second verse, same as the first.
You may be thinking that since I haven’t mentioned Little One’s difficulty getting up in the morning, the situation has been solved. Au Contraire. Weeks of practice at rising to the sound of an alarm, any alarm, has not vastly improved her morning routine. And to my shame, we have resorted to pounding on her door in the morning just around seven a.m., so that she can put on her shoes and jump in her car three seconds before her first class begins. And, if she doesn’t get to school on time, we take away her beloved car keys and (gasp!) the next day she has to ride the school bus.
Our thinking? If she can’t get up at seven a.m., we’ll make her get up an hour earlier to catch the bus.
Yesterday was no exception. After a seven a.m. door-pounding wake-up call from Big Guy, she flopped herself on my bed and moaned that she didn’t feel good. What doesn’t feel good? “Everything,” she whined.
After I gave her a good dose of medicine that cures everything, I flung her off my bed and told her to go to school. She moaned that she was sick and needed to stay home, and I absolutely refused to even entertain the idea of her ever staying home again. After a bunch more moaning I finally told her to get her butt in her car and go to school.
Then I spent the rest of the day feeling like the awful Momma who sends her sick Little One to school where she’s feverish and will probably be vomiting within the hour. Or that she’s finally had enough of my unfeeling drill sargeant parenting and she’s running away, never to return. Which made me turn on the Big Guy (who sometimes is legally required to take on the role of the Evil Stepfather), when he said, “She didn’t look sick when I woke her up.”
But you’ll all be relieved to know that she did in fact come home healthy and even gave a cheery hello to the cats who were waiting for her at the door. She apparently had forgotten her cruel Momma until I asked how she was feeling. “I’ll be fine. I always am,” she snapped. Good to hear it. You’re taking the bus tomorrow.
Published by angelawd on October 11th, 2007 tagged Abnormal Motherhood, Mom of Teens
October 11th, 2007 at 9:28 pm
A ha! I found your blog! I kept getting an error when I clicked on your name, but I managed to track you down…
Tee hee. I used to pretend I was sick CONSTANTLY. My mother always fell for it. You’re a lot smarter : >
October 12th, 2007 at 7:47 am
Yeah, I used to pretend I was sick to get out of school too. It was a lot more fun for me, because my Mom worked outside the home, but I’m always here.
October 12th, 2007 at 7:53 am
Sue and Leain: I was always pretending to be sick, too. I think my mom was pretty lenient about it, because I don’t remember becoming deathly ill at school cuz my heartless mom wouldn’t let me stay home. : )
November 23rd, 2007 at 7:58 am
Ah, how well I remember, my second child never being ready for school and yelling down the stairs to her room to her that the bus was coming for her in 5 minutes! She rarely had time for breakfast in high school and I took to buying breakfast bars which she could shove in her pocket and shove into her shoes and race to the bus. She would then tie the shoes on the bus and eat the bar on her way to school. How lucky LO is to have her own car. Ask her Grandmother to tell her stories of how cruely her mother was treated!
November 26th, 2007 at 10:22 am
So funny, Mom! I still have nightmares about running down the road to get to the bus on time. With my clarinet banging against my leg.
January 11th, 2008 at 11:26 am
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