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My Morning So Far...

"Mommy, why does Oswald like to sing songs?" my son asked. 'Because he's a fucking simpleton,' I think to myself. Oswald is a big blue cartoon octopus on Nick Jr., voiced by Fred Savage of Wonder Years fame. If good old Fred had ever bothered to watch the end product, he'd know (as the rest of us do) that he is never getting laid again. Ever.

I got angry at a peanut butter & jelly sandwich a few minutes ago. Angry. At a sandwich. The bottom piece of bread was an end piece and kind of tough, it didn't want to be cut into a triangle. So I snarled a curse and attacked it with renewed vigor, strawberry jam oozing like blood...with seeds. It was absurd enough to pull me up short. Angry at a sandwich? Because it wouldn't allow itself to be cut? I was too grumpy for it to make me laugh, but I have hopes for later.

My grumpiness stems from being awakened by the piercing shrieking of my 2 year old daughter. Those of you with daughters know that police whistles got nothing on little girls. My son had apparently pinched her because she was sitting in his rocking chair. I meted out the appropriate punishments, yelled a bit and went to make coffee, thoroughly grumped. This is when the sandwich chose to defy me. And that's what it's really all about...I instructed the sandwich to be cut, it didn't cooperate. I instruct my children to be nice to each other, not to hurt each other, they don't fucking cooperate.

And the shrieking. As with all toddlers, my daughter is a firm believer in letting the world know how she's feeling. From her merry giggles to her goddamned ambulance siren of an angry shriek, she believes in sharing the emotion. And I have not yet mastered the art of keeping it separate from my own. Some days I don't think I ever will.

While the coffee is brewing, I clean up the not one, but two instances of cat effluvia lying around the house, alerted by shrieks of "Cat puke!" from both children. So helpful, aren't they? I make biscuits, hoping my daughter will deign to put mortal food in her mouth. She's currently existing on some invisible form of ambrosia...doesn't appear to eat anything but grows nonetheless. Preparing my own breakfast, I drop the honey container smack onto a freshly buttered biscuit. *sigh*

Perhaps I should go back to bed.

Posted 01/24/02 in Joy of Parenting
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