I got up before my alarm this morning after a not-so-restful night. I was on call, and earned every penny of the $5.00 per hour differential!
I swiped my alarm off and went to the kitchen… I love my morning french roast! Then proceeded to assemble strawberries, bananas and Greek yogurt to make smoothies for the kids as the head out the door for school. Plain berries for Dau #1, berries and yogurt for Dau #2 and then strawberry banana for The Boy.
As I’m chopping fresh melon for their lunches, the Boy ducks out of his bathroom, wrapped in a towel and asks me to make him a lunch. “Sure,” I said, and thought to myself, “I do most days.” He proceeded to tell me his lunchbox was in dads’ car, then kisses me good morning and retreats to his room. I tell him, “I’m not going out to get it,” as I go to the closet to collect girls’ lunch boxes. They’re not there. As I head back to the kitchen, Dau #2 comes down the stairs, lunchbox in hand stating that she forgot it in her backpack yesterday. Dau #1 cleverly avoided explaining where hers was. Husband enters and kisses me good morning. I then proceed to finish the short order list of smoothies and feel the overwhelming frustration this lunchbox issue is for me, petty as it sounds.
I don’t have unreasonable expectations of these people in my life. I really don’t. I expect them to take care of their lunch boxes after school. They weren’t born with a silver spoon.. Though, I must admit I’ve tried to shove one in their mouth. I spoil my kids. Rotten. They know it, I know it. Hell, I admit it! My husband and I both agree that they have all that they need, and most of what they want. I don’t mean “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous” wants, but “normal” wants. Anyways, I start in on my well-known rant to my husband about the lunch boxes, not being put away. Again! He sits with his coffee and listens. Doesn’t say a word, probably wise…
The kids all arrive back to the kitchen, ready to leave and I let them know I didn’t make lunches. That I no longer will for anyone that doesn’t simply take care of their lunchbox as I request. They all went out the door with their smoothies in hand and money in their lunch accounts. Undoubtably thinking about what a bitch mom is being.
I’m not sure why I’ve never given them consequences for not putting their lunch boxes away. I just remind, nag, bitch or tease them depending on my mood. Maybe I have but “forgot” and let it go. That is possible. Remember I spoil these crotchfruit of mine. This time though, I’m “serious” and by serious, I mean serious. I’m not going to waste the energy to fight about the lunch boxes. I know, petty. But stick a fork in me already. I’m done!
Which got me to thinking, I’m just tired. Sure, I’m “fatigued.” I didn’t sleep much or well last night. I really should be sleeping now. But tired. That all-consuming, can’t get out of my own way, just want to sleep but my mind won’t stop, generalized aches and pains, scattered, unorganized and aimless kind of tired. That’s what I mean when I say “I’m tired.” And now I’m tired and in the shit storm aftermath of his affair.
Some days it’s still hard to believe that he did it. Today is one of those days.