“Mommy. . . ” she asked as she sprawled over the couch, “Can I ummm. . . .call my friend Emily?”
I opened my mouth to say “Yes.”, but there was a strange smirk on her face. She was definitely up to something. I dismissed it hoping I wouldn’t find out later what she was planning, and nodded my head in agreement.
I got up from the couch, smiled at my children and excused myself.
I wanted to be ‘ALONE”.
In a small room.
Somewhere, where people might take a magazine or a book to get a quick 5 minute read.
Somewhere, where people GENERALLY are BY THEMSELVES, with the door locked.
However, in this instance the door was not locked.
Because, I was at home alone with all four of my children who could at any minute decide to wedge themselves between the refrigerator and the wall, break their face, or have a mental breakdown. I kept the door unlocked FOR EMERGENCY USE ONLY. Like a fire, or severed appendage, or an asteroid shower. ALL REAL EMERGENCIES.
Notice, I did not include a ‘call from a best friends mother’.
Because THAT IS NOT an emergency.
I heard feet hitting the hard floor as they moved in quick succession, and murmured words becoming louder and louder.. The door to my bedroom opens and then shuts. Soon after, I hear the creaky sound of the bathroom door opening, along with a muted voice rambling something to someone.
She must have left something in my closet.
Just then, she opens the door to my private place, looks at me innocently, bats her eyelashes, removes the phone from her ear, projects her arm forward with phone in hand and says loud and clear as if she’s on a stage in a “How Loud Can You Speak” Tournament, “Here Mommy. Emily’s mom wants to talk to you!”
I think that child has lost her lovely mind. Maybe she’s blind, and she doesn’t realize I’M IN THE BATHROOM. Or her brain has malfunctioned. Maybe she’s having a seizure that allows you stand stand fully erect and totally disregard things like toilets and private places.
“Here Mommy. Here. Take it. She needs to speak with you now. She’s on the phone NOW!!!” She yells, practically screaming.
Yes. She has definitely lost her mind.
Well, this is quite the pickle. I can not verbally respond to my child, or else whomever is on the phone will hear loud echoing vibrations that bounce off the walls OF BATHROOMS since the phone is now 2 inches from my face. I WON’T actually remove the phone from said child’s hand because I do not want to speak to her friends mother (however nice she may be) while I’m ummmm. . . .indisposed. I could remove the phone from her hand and beat her senseless with it, but I don’t believe in corporal punishment, and also I don’t want to fall off the toilet. What to do? What to do?
So I do the only thing I can do in this situation. I shoot eye lasers at her.
Red ones. That spark and ignite on impact.
She’s a brave soldier though, and she bobs and weaves to avoid them. As she’s deflecting, she moves in closer pushing the phone into my face. So I scrunch up my lips, muster up all my powers and start shooting Purple lasers along side the red ones. I start mouthing in a silent scream, “You’ had. better. take. that. phone. out of here RIGHT NOW or I am going to kill you. Stop shoving that thing in my face, I don’t care who is on the phone, I am not talking to them. GET OUT NOW!”
And then I fixed my jaw in a hard stern line, and she pulled her tail between her legs and scurried away.
2 minutes later. I’m still in the bathroom. Conveniently, I have my phone. Somebody is texting me.
Wen u r done can u talk 2
my friend’s mom?
OF COURSE. . . .I DO NOT RESPOND.
They want me 2 spend the nite.
Can u plz !!!!! (plz reply)
I wonder which hospital I should admit her into. I wonder if it’s a condition she was born with.
I’m VERY mad. Have u
lost ur mind? I’ll talk to u
when I’m done. Leave me
10 minutes later.
I’m sitting on the chair in my room fuming. There is a light tap on my bedroom door. It’s Shelbi.
“What do you want now???” I yell.
“I’m sorry Mommy.” she squeaks, “I’m really sorry.”
“So what. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Fine. . . . . . .I guess you can come in.”
So she opens the door, shuffles in with tears in her eyes and sits next to me on the bed.
“Seriously? What were you thinking? I’m glad your sorry, but really Shelbi, you were out of line. I can’t believe you actually expected me to talk to Emily’s mom while I was on the toilet. That is completely rude and crude, and gross. Not to mention that you were being completely selfish to put your needs in front of mine without even considering how that might make me feel. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Nothing. Just that I’m really sorry.” she whimpers.
“Now, do you really think I should let you go spend the night with your friend?”
“And why not?”
“Because I behaved selfishly. I really am sorry Mommy. Please don’t be mad.”
And I sat. And I stewed.
And I looked up at her and said, “OK. You can go.”
Because that’s how we do it around here. Confusion Parenting. It’s all the rage.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – — – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Looks like I should be saying, I’m sorry too.
I’m really sorry that I’m being so inconsiderate.
I mean I didn’t even consider that maybe your sitting at your computer right now, and you don’t want to get up.
But now you have too, because I’ve shoved this picture all up in your face and now you want Strawberry Shortcake Pancakes.
I really am sorry.
It’s not my fault.
It’s a condition that runs in my family.
Strawberry Shortcake Pancakes
For Strawberry Mixture:
5 cups of strawberries, halved
2 TB lemon juice
6 TB granulated sugar
2 cups Bisquick
1 cup milk
2 TB sugar
2 TB lemon juice
2 tsp baking powder
Canola Oil or Cooking Spray
1. In a medium sized bowl, mix strawberries, sugar, and lemon juice. Set aside to release juices.
2. In a larger bowl, mix Bisquick, milk, sugar, lemon juice, baking powder, and eggs.
3. Heat skillet to medium high, and grease with canola oil. Pour batter by 1/4 cupfuls onto hot skillet. Cook until edges are dry. Flip, and cook until golden.
4. To serve, garnish pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream. Serve additional syrup on the side.