Of Saturday’s Meltdowns and Ringtones

I heard the first set of feet hit the floor on Saturday morning at 5:55 a.m. Because of the weight with which these feet struck and a strong hypothesis based upon 9 years of past history, I felt certain these feet belonged to AG. I then began to hear thumping. Then, more thumping. After that, all I could hear was the screaming of “NOOOOOOOO” inside my own head. No. NO! It’s Saturday! No! NOOOO. I mean it. No.

So, I guess it would be safe to say that I started the day grumpy. It is 75% my own fault, because I hadn’t gone to sleep before 1 a.m. I was in no way ready to smile and sing the Brownie Song after only 5 hours of sleep. But whatever. Sometimes these things happen. A Brownie Scout is a Brownie Scout always. Not just when well-rested.

Hours later, it was still only mid-morning. Todd was golfing. I was attempting to balance the breakfast chaos and get a 40-minute workout in. But while I was attempting that workout, the little elves were further destroying the family room. So at one point, I walked in to issue a “clean up” statement. I believe I said that they were to clean up the bowls and blankets. I didn’t even address the toy situation. And then,  falsely thinking I somehow had some influence, I returned to my workout.

Five minutes later, I came back in. Nothing had been touched. The TV was on. The chaos and chatter had continued. Please tell me you have had some sudden and temporary deafness so that I don’t have to trade you to a band of passing gypsies. Tell me there’s still hope. Tell me you cleaned up the bowls and blankets, but then got severely cold and hungry and had to get them back out again. I got nothing. So after some back and forth, I got mad. And I wish I could tell you it was pretty. But it wasn’t. Let’s just say that a bowl that was the Titanic of plastics broke in half. I’m sure it must have been dropped into the sink just right.

By the time Todd got home from golfing, everyone was crying. Even me. I am laughing as I type this, because for a guy who had just had a pleasant golf game, walking innocently into his home to see his family, this must have been utter carnage. Sorry, Todd. Fortunately for all of us, he is a reasonable fella and he knows how to put out fires. So he talked everyone back into sanity and then he took all four children to lunch. Bless that man.

It is time to work out a chore schedule. I’m working on that now. Handing out spurts of chores does not work and getting mad is not a punishment. We need structure, consistency, and reasonable consequences. Also, I need to get a better set of plastic bowls. Just kidding.

The whole thing wasn’t that bad. But the bowl did break. And I did cry. I was completely mad at myself for being mad at them. Because it didn’t solve anything. But the kids didn’t seem to know I was shopping for a nice quiet place to check myself in and everything went perfectly the rest of the day. Except that no one could reach me.

Later that day, Todd tried to call me. 13 times. Only once did I hear the phone. The rest of the time it was covered by my iPod, or ambient noise, or the screaming inside my head from 5:55 a.m. So when we all showed back up at the house, Todd was a little, teensy bit crabby that he hadn’t been able to locate me in quite awhile. Perhaps he was nervous that I actually would check myself into a quiet place and never return. Whatever the case, he asked to see my phone. 17 seconds later, I had a new ringtone. I will leave you with the new ringtone.

I can hear it now.
It almost kills me from fright, but I can hear it.
I deserved it.
Please only call me when you REALLY need me, because it scares me really bad.
Just kidding about not calling me.

Everything is really fine. I mean it.
Totally.Under.Control.