My kids were late for school today. Tardy has become the norm for us. They were late yesterday too. I often take the blame. I frequently allow Mini to sleep too long. To me, 10 more minutes of sleep is like dessert. I always want it, but I'm not always rewarded with it. My morning run has interfered with the proper time allotment for the morning routine. If I wasn't working, and I could shower after I dropped them off at school then things would be a bit simpler. Trust me - I do not spend much time getting ready in the morning. I can shower and be dressed and out the door in about 15 minutes. My hair may still be drying in colorful, little salon clips all over my head, but those can always come out at the end of my commute. That is how I roll.
Curly recently pointed out that they are always on time for school when Daddy drives. I suppose she's feeling the 'Everything I needed to know I learned in kindergarten' thing going on. Smarty pants. Well, Daddy doesn't get hung up on details like kids hair, and additional sleep minutes. Additionally he isn't always tuned into whether or not a second grader might have all of the components to their project that Mommy assisted with for hours the day before (yes, this incident is fresh - Reggie's Ben Franklin poster board complete with a diary key strung from a makeshift kite was left behind . . . after all that work, ugh). Coach also typically works out after he drops them off, so he hasn't even showered. Even if he does shower prior to the drive, it's not like he has to spend any time on his hair. He's not bald, but there is no styling involved. Even my hair clippies take a few minutes to throw in my wet, thin, graying hair. Besides, on the days when Coach has driven our offspring, I'm usually in the building assisting for part of the routine: lunches, or breakfast, or hair.
This morning's tardy wasn't about me. With the school year coming to a close, I decided that I would take my sweet time getting into work today. I work in a school, but not in a classroom setting. My work is independent of the school children and I manage my own schedule. I jumped in the shower and promised I would drive them as soon as I got dressed. I was coming back home after I dropped them off anyway, so teeth, hair, lunch . . . that could all wait.
Once I emerged from the shower, I realized that a war had broken out in my kitchen. Battles are often launched during my quick showers. I don't get it. They know I'll be back in a flash, don't they? It never ceases to amaze me that the world we live in can crumble so quickly just because I can't referee for a few sacred moments. Today was one of those days.
Let me preface this with the fact that the grocery situation is borderline desperate. I shop regularly, but despite my best efforts I can't keep up with the demand these growing teenage boys have placed on our poor refrigerators and pantry. This morning Laddie asked me if he could take Doritos in his lunch. Sure. I make a taco salad recipe that requires crunched up Doritos. The kids have learned to lay off the bags of chips the hard way. If they are caught chowing down on a bag of chips that was purchased strictly to be utilized for a meal, watch out. I plan my menu out before I grocery shop (odd concept that I've only happened upon since I went back to work, and surprisingly it seems to work). The fool that forces me into an unplanned visit to the grocery better have thoroughly enjoyed whatever food item he lammed on to.
Since the taco salad leftovers had already been served the night before, the remaining chips in the rolled up red bag on top of the fridge were fair game. Laddie leaves before the other folks, so he inquired first. Reggie asked next - if you haven't figured it out yet, Reggie is no dummy. I threw Reg a plastic baggie and told him to help himself. The next part is as foggy as the glass shower door. Savage folklore has it that Tetanka packed his own chips but then ate some of the chips (before 8 am) straight out of Reggie's lunchbox. Scuffle between Tetanka and Reggie. Tears from Reggie. According to a sleepy head Mini, who was just starting her breakfast (bad morning to allow the extra 10 minutes), Tetanka threw Reggie down to the floor. (I tried not to hear her details because I am aware of a snitch component in our family dynamic that is sucking the life out of me). Still, I deduced that Reggie was being pushed around. Reggie kept re-securing the zipper on his chip baggie between sobs. I observed a depleted Dorito supply in Reggie's lunchbox.
The crazy thing was (as if fighting over Doritos isn't crazy in the first place), there were still chips in the store bought, crumpled bag. I demanded that Tetanka fork over his personal stash of chips from his star wars lunch box. He refused. Refused. Back up the bus a moment: someone staggered in from basketball practice just as the Blackhawks were entering the first overtime in their game against the Kings last night. He was glued to the TV, and Coach and I were too transfixed on the game to parent. Suddenly Tentaka scored himself no bedtime (which was more than we could say for the Blackhawks, in the first OT anyway). Well, Tetanka's lack of sleep reared its ugly head in the way of Dorito desperation this morning.
With the exception of taco salad menu planning, I am not one to purchase Doritos. I'm not a complete health food nut, but there are some food items I don't typically stock. Perhaps that explains a bit about Tetanka and Reggie going at it in the kitchen this morning. But still!
After I threw down a major threat in my most vocal-cord-straining tone, Tetanka led me to his hidden lunch box and handed over the contraband. Can't say I was shocked to see that Tetanka's bag was busting at the zipper. Is there some world wide threat over a Dorito shortage that I haven't caught wind of? I promised to hold the generously packed bag until another day in the near future. When I brought them to my car, Tetanka whimpered that I was going to eat them at work. Not so. Unlike my offspring, I do not crave Doritos. I explained that I thought the car was the best hiding place for them. After all . . . it locks.
Although the kids were once again tardy, on the upside I guess if all else fails, our clan can star in an unscripted Dorito commercial. My mom occasionally drops off a big bottle of pink Snapple. I will share in a later blog the kind of lengths they have gone to in order to hide their Snapple ingestion - specifically when they recognize that they over indulged on their allotted portion.
Then they wonder why I don't buy Fruit Loops.