Every morning things around here are a little bit nutty. Bria is throwing around orders like General Patton. I’m trying to get Jack going and generally hand feed him breakfast. There are lunches to make. While it should be suddenly clear that I could have the girls make their lunches, if I have to constantly remind them to brush their teeth, how are they going to get everything in the lunch box? The big girls are easily distracted by everything. Moving them upstairs means I’m not in their face giving them direction every two minutes. And… we need a better system. It’s often in the middle of this that I wonder why I’m going through the rush. Wouldn’t it be easier to home school? Then I realize that would mean we would be engaged in this dance ALL DAY LONG. No thank you.
Here’s another thing… never compare your children to you as a child. Even in a whisper, Karma will hear. I promise. Karma WILL HEAR. The night before last on the way home from church, the van was getting louder and louder. Big girls find that picking on the little girl is pretty entertaining until the little one gets all of them in trouble. Their evening reading time was taken away. Arleigh was ticked, seriously ticked. She was at a plot twist in a book and was looking forward to reading it. She was in a bit of a tween tizzy. Off to bed mad at me, Ray said something. I made the horrible mistake of saying, “Arleigh isn’t going to do anything to me that I haven’t already tried on Mom.” Never use those words ever, especially if you have more than one child. See, I have three other ones. I’m pretty sure that while I could say that about Arleigh… Hanan and Bria at least are a whole other story. Jack is still to be determined…
So there’s Hanan, my little fashionista. She is always trying new things with her style. Unfortunately right now she’s toying with a grunge bohemian look. She has a fabulous lunch box. It’s a zebra print with her name on it in last year’s favorite color, Blue. It looks like a Memphis Tiger bag which used to thrill her. This week, or today, blue is out and pink is in. She went down the street and for a quarter bought a lunch box for twenty five cents. The dirty pink camouflage lunch box used by another child for years, was apparently a steal. Hanan was so proud of her purchase. I dropped the lunch box in the wash and she used it for a while. Her thermos won’t fit in the lunchbox. Drives me crazy. The kid who forgets everything…like her mother…wants to hand carry her thermos. I let her use the prized possession for a while. I started throwing in juice boxes so things would fit. And let’s face it, throwing in three Capri Suns is a lot easier than filling three thermoses with ice and water. That would take a whole three minutes off my time. See where she gets it from?
Lately I’ve gone back to the thermos. Water is better. Saving money is better. It’s also impossible to get their little soup thermos and that other thermos in Hanan’s pink lunch box. I forced her to take another one. I thought she would see how easy it was and switch back. Carrying everything is one bag would seem easier right? Ummm no. She was switching back and forth. When I wasn’t paying attention, she put the other lunch box back. Yesterday I started making mac and cheese to put in everyone’s lunch. I couldn’t find her little container. I saw the lunchbox at the back of the pantry. Would she really? She knows the rule about emptying lunch boxes as soon as we’re home. She also knows the rule about brushing her teeth. See where this is going?
I opened the lunch box. Smell, not so great. Yep, it’s in there. Oh my word. Soup must have gotten in the seal. I could not unseal it. I was on the phone with a friend. She is telling me no worries. She has her own version of Hanan and she knows just what to do so I won’t have to throw away the $15 thermos. So much for saving money on water over Capri Sun…I can’t budge the seal. Well, maybe I’ve budged it. I sat it down and walked away to finish the conversation. Then I heard a pop, clank, clank, clank. I walked around the corner to see what Bria had done because she’s my go to for things like that. The thermos had exploded. Lid off. Tomato soup on every cabinet and counter top. It looked like a crime scene and smelled worse. Bria was sanding there, eyes big as saucers.
As I cleaned up the mess I remembered another very special thermos. It was new. I wanted to use it all the time. Mom folded and told it fine but do not put any Coke in it. That would be Western KY speak for soda. I did. It sprung a leak. She was ummm, ill. See, paybacks are awful. I do realize that it could have been worse. I make garlic oil. It’s stored in a clear container in the fridge. It has a shatterproof sticker on it that I had never noticed until a few nights ago when Hanan said, “That shatter proof sticker really makes me want to throw that jar and test it.” Oh my word. I’m in trouble.