I Pay for Torture

Every month I write a check for my tri-weekly torture. It doesn't come cheap.

Remember the other day when Nathan had nothing to wear? And he missed his field trip? Well, today he missed his Valentine's party. Hailey thinks I'm the meanest mom ever to not drive him to school. But you see, we have a carpool. I already drive over there five times a week taking Casey to school. So the deal is, if he misses his ride, he misses school. And he gets to go back to bed.

So every morning he wakes up and asks, "Do I have school today?" If the answer is yes, the torture begins. Usually with some moaning, followed by whining. And if you only knew how much I despise whining.... If I can get him to eat breakfast, we move on to the getting dressed part. This is where the real drama typically begins. If the clothes he has on don't look too bad, I just let him wear those. Then we move on to combing his hair. At any moment, he could blow. One wrong word, and he's a goner. After hair, it's shoes (we skip the teeth on preschool mornings- it's simply too much to tackle.) After shoes, it's onto his coat and his book bag. Each step is like a step in a mine field. Carefully, I choose my words and actions, not knowing what will set him off. Some mornings, I make it across the field, others, I don't.

This morning, I didn't. After having the talk to him about why he has to go back to bed, I found myself threatening to call his teacher and tell her he is done with preschool. He shook his head and told me he didn't want me to. To which I replied, "I don't pay for torture!"