Every now and again, I open my mouth and something my parents have said a million times before comes out. This morning was one of those experiences. Typically, we buy a frozen orange juice concentrate to make orange juice for the boys. This week, however, there was a super deal at the commissary on a large ‘pitcher’ of orange juice that I couldn’t pass up.
The boys finished that juice off this morning with breakfast. Boy number 3 was tasked with cleaning the kitchen after our meal. Playing with the lid on the spout of the orange juice container, he announces that the trash is full and his brother needs to bag up the garbage or he can’t do his job. This, of course, turns into a huge conundrum that made me question if I really wanted the boys to do their chores causing me to deal with all the arguing that ensues. (I am sure this is their ploy each time they have tasks to complete.)
Entering the kitchen to
threaten redirect them, I see number 3 playing with the juice container. Loudly, I announce, “Stop playing with that! And don’t throw it in the trash either, it’s a good container and we’ll reuse it for more juice.” Right then, a memory of my parents emphatically ordering us to save empty cool whip containers and butter tubs despite having a cabinet or two full of plastic ware that practically attacked a person upon opening the doors invade my brain.
Memory re-run ends and I walk over to my own plastic ware cabinet to take a peek.
Slowly, I am becoming my parents…
It’s almost 6:00 in the morning. My dogs and cats are dancing quite animatedly at the kitchen door eager to do their morning business in the backyard. I’m trying to get pumped up to begin my fitness/health routine while trying to motivate a 15 year old and a 17 year old to jump in the shower. There’s only so much “Miss Merry Sunshine” that this gal can possess. Today, that disposition is running extremely thin. (Insert caffeinated drink number 2.)
Typically in the morning, I prepare the boys chocolate chip pancakes. I also prepare a ‘go plate’ for boy number 3’s “brother from another mother.” This morning boy number 2 (also known as the bear as he seems to hibernate and is difficult to awaken during the week) announces that he’s ‘burned out’ on pancakes and would like something else. As I process the request, I am thinking to myself “Go with it, maybe this will motivate him to get up easier for at least a couple of mornings.” Sadly, the frustrated parent was also inside my brain thinking, “Okay, Mr. Prima Donna, eat some cereal like many of your buddies do each morning.” I am so glad that I didn’t verbalize that thought to him. He’s a big guy, but I am sure that a reaction such as my second thought would have caused him to overreact making the morning much more busier and more of a struggle. Shaking the negative aside, I prepare some chorizo and eggs for him, roll two breakfast burritos, and stow away the leftover mixture for tomorrow. It may sound corny or overplayed, but in all honestly, his smile and simple, “Thanks, Mom.” made the extra work all worthwhile. (Not to mention, everything is already prepared for breakfast burritos for him tomorrow.)
Now, I am just waiting for boy number 2 to announce he’s done with pancakes, too (which will probably never happen as he’s a creature of habit).