Cuervo, Take Me Away

I actually look forward to the kids having a day off from school, as long as it's a Friday, it's not winter and there isn't a science project that needs to be completed. Since Presidents Day didn't meet any of these requirements, I was ready for the day to be over by 10:30. Ay-Em.

I was hoping to sleep in until Doug had to get up for work, but instead my kick ass dream was interrupted at 6:45, courtesy of the dog sprinting around our bedroom at a frantic pace that meant: "I have to go pee. I have to go pee. Get up, get up. I have to go pee." So I got up, let the dog out and then shoveled the driveway.

At 7:50 Zoe came stumbling down the stairs, complaining that her leg hurt because she had been asleep for too long. Four moans, three groans and one full body flop-on-the-floor later, she ate her waffle and then launched into her "There's no school so when can I play Mario Kart" campaign.

At 8:45 Charlie woke up and made it all the way to the couch before he collapsed again, physically incapable of sitting upright or pouring a glass of orange juice. He did manage to appear in a chair when breakfast was ready, but couldn't find the energy to grab his own fork.

After Zach was brought to consciousness by Zoe (after I told her to go wake him up) at 9:00, he mumbled something that sounded like "Morning," read the sports section while he ate breakfast, and the first audible words out of his mouth were, "Ugh, there was a little too much cheese on my eggs."

I reminded the boys of when we were leaving for their piano and tennis lessons, and since Zoe was busy reading books to her stuffed animals I went downstairs to workout, hoping that burning a few calories would be the equivalent of hitting a reset button on the day.

Usually if I'm on the elliptical when the kids are home, I get interrupted no fewer than three times with random questions or reports of naughtiness. Maybe the kids all sensed that I needed a few dozen minutes to myself, because no one came downstairs to tell me anything. Or maybe, like I eventually discovered, they were just waiting until I was done.

Thanks to an elevated heart rate and being able to laugh at a few people on "The Price Is Right," I had managed to pretty much forget about the start to my day. So when I came upstairs refreshed and ready to start over and the first thing I heard was Charlie say, "Guess what Zoe did!" I was more than a little ticked.

"She was in my room, digging through my desk drawers and closet. And then when I told her to stop she charged at me and hit me! And then she practically bent my fingers so far backward, I'm surprised they didn't break off!" Apparently Charlie had been in his room, wrestling with a rhinoceros that had recently been handed a UFC contract.

I looked over at Zoe who was in the same exact spot as before, reading books to her stuffed animals. This is a girl that can hear a candy wrapper from two miles away, but right now she was pretending to be deaf.

I constantly remind these kids that it is not my daily goal to see how mad I can get. I don't walk around waiting for the naughtiness to begin, excitedly anticipating a good scream or being able to yank a fistful of hair out of my head. So when I get stories like this it makes me crazy, and it results in the same stupid conversation everytime:

Kid 1: Kid 2 was mean, and hit me!

Kid 2: I did not hit you!

Kid 1: Yes, you did!

Me: Kid 2, were you naughty? Did you hit him? Tell the truth, please.

Kid 2: Okay, maybe, yeah. Cuz he deserved it!

Me: Well, then say you're sorry. And don't hit.

Kid 1: That's it?

Me: Oh. Um, Kid 2. Stay out of Kid 1's bedroom.

Kid 1: UGH!

Kid 2: UGH!

Me: UGH! Where's my drink!

I would love it if they didn't get quite so much joy over getting each other in trouble. You'd think they would figure out that when one of them makes me miserable, the slightest wrongdoing from the others just adds to the misery. And the drama could come to a grinding halt any day. Did Zoe almost bust Charlie's fingers off? I don't think so. Did he overreact to her looking through some pictures that he had drawn? Probably.

After the finger-breaking/hitting crisis was settled, I reminded the boys of what was on our schedule for the rest of the day. Five minutes later while Zach was getting something to drink, he asked me: "So, what time is tennis again? When do we have to leave? And why do we have a piano lesson in the middle of the day anyway?"

Last night when the boys were playing a video game together, Charlie asked Zach a question. After asking the same question for the fourth time Zach said to him, "Hey Charlie, why don't you try listening to me sometime." Excuse me, Kettle Black. Get in line. And since you have the limeade out, make me a margarita.