Friday, February 29, 2008

I'm a mean, mean mom

Of course, I've been told this more times than I can count in the last 14 months. Strangely, for the 9 years I was a mom before that, I'd never been told that before. Hun.

Any-ho, this morning I got Max up, did our little I-love-you finger rhyme, read him a story and then it was time to get dressed. You may remember that on Wednesday Max managed to get dressed in two minutes (I allot five for that activity). Today, however, even though he slept in his undies and socks (and, thus, didn't even have to take off his pjs), he was still working when the timer went off.

The only this he had left to adorn himself with was his stocking cap. He likes to wear it at breakfast. It was still in his bin (where he keeps the clothes and school stuff for the next day). I said, "Time's up, buddy. Close 'er up and come to breakfast."

Max looks me in the eye, reaches into the bin, pulls out his hat, and puts it on - all while looking me right in the eye.

I calmly went over, took the hat off and put it back in the bin. At this point, it's worth noting that it has been very warm here the last few days. Highs in the 60s. Not to mention that it was crazy hair day today and Max had wanted me to put colored gel in his hair. That would be hard with a hat on. Just saying.

Max starts yelling at me, "You are a mean mom!!!! You are such a mean mom!!!! Why are you so mean to me!?!?!?!"

I set the timer for breakfast and went on about getting his breakfast done and lunch packed.

Max comes to the counter and, not 30 seconds after the yelling, says in a perfectly cheerful voice, "Oh, Mommy, are you going to put hair color in my hair for me?"

"I'd love to, Max, but mean moms don't do that sort of thing."

"mumble, mumble"

I reviewed the day's happenings for him, mentioning that it was crazy hair day. I said, "It's a good thing we did your hair cut last night so you'll have some sort of crazy hair sense mean moms don't put in hair color and it seems that I'm still mean." I was trying to lead him to apologize, after which I'd have put in his hair gel.

He finished up breakfast, got ready to go out the door and then looked at me expectantly. I opened the door and walked out. His little face fell.

"Oh, you were still thinking up until the last minute you were going to get hair color. But you said I was mean and then never even apologized. I guess that means I'm still mean and mean moms don't do nice things like that."

He was pissed. I reached out to straighten his backpack strap and he wrenched violently away from me. Then he started yelling, "I! Well! I won't! Because of you!!!!!!!!"

After a half a block, the pissed wore off and he started crying. He held my hand. I said to him, "It's pretty disappointing, isn't it? You really wanted color in your hair. I'm disappointed, too. I wanted you to have color. Unfortunately, that's not something mean moms do."

Screaming, "Stop saying that! You're not mean! Just stop saying that!"

"Dude, you were the one who brought it up today."

Over the top of me, still screaming, "Just stop talking about it!!!!!!"

The rest of the walk was decent, actually. It's an odd life I lead these days.


  1. You're my hero.

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