Tired and bleary and pulling on my robe, I step from my bedroom to the top of the stairs.
I smell coffee.
Someone who lets you stay in bed a few extra minutes while he starts the coffee and deals with the first morning angers from your daughters?
Marry that person. Seriously.
There is a thundering up the stairs as I tie my robe and prepare to head down.
Kallan.
Kallan all hopeful and polite and lovely, waving a package of flavored hot chocolate in the air and in my face.
“Daddy said I could have hot chocolate with breakfast!”
“So weird that you are up here talking to me about it instead of just drinking your hot chocolate, then.”
“OK, fine. He said I could have hot chocolate if you said it was OK.”
Sigh.
At least he made the coffee.
I answer Kallan, “Yeah, that sounds about right. And the answer is no.”
“What? Daddy said I could!”
“No, Daddy said you should ask me.”
“But he meant that I could!”
I put my arm around her and we walk into the kitchen together, “No, what Daddy meant? Was that he doesn’t want to be yelled at, and so he has pushed your soon-to-be anger off on me.”
Mark snorts with laughter, “If Mom says no? The answer is no.”
And then Kallan is in a rage, screaming and stomping through the kitchen, “Daddy would have let me have hot chocolate! Why do you have to ruin everything? Daddy, why do you let her decide everything?”
I take a cup of coffee from Mark, and suggest, “We have orange juice, babe.”
She turns hateful eyes on me, “I don’t want orange juice. And? I wasn’t even talking to you. You are not in this discussion.”
“OK, well now? I am so in this discussion you are not going to even believe it. Go sit on the couch in the other room and I will come talk to you in a few minutes.”
She crosses her arms in defiance, “I don’t want to.”
“Oooooh . . . that would be the perfect answer if I had asked you if you wanted to go sit on the couch. But I did not. Go sit on the couch.”
Stomp, stomp, stomp . . . flop.
I go to talk to her, push her legs out of the way so that I can sit next to her.
She screams in anguish, “DADDY! Mommy hit me! She hit me! The woman you married just hit me!”
The woman he married?
Snort!
So I let her sit for a while.
And then I may have walked through the room once and pantomimed throwing a huge unreasonable fit.
There is a lot of mocking at our house.
Kallan sneers, “Hello? I can see you, you know.”
I am all startled, “Are you kidding? I forgot to wear my cloak of invisibility?”
She giggles.
I sit down, “Babe, you just cannot get up in the morning and bring the house down with screaming demands for hot chocolate.”
“Hmmmph. If this was a hotel? I would be able to have hot chocolate.”
“What? I’m not sure where you are going with this argument, Kallan. This? Is not a hotel.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“Anyway . . . you may get up off of the couch and do the rest of your day when you are confident that you are going to be pleasant.”
“FINE,” and she stands up to leave.
“Where are you going? You’re still all angry and rude.”
She rolls her eyes, “You didn’t say I had to be pleasant now, Mom. You just said I had to be certain that I would be pleasant. In the future. And in the future? I am sure I will have pleasant moments.”
Sometimes? Kallan sounds so much like me? It is spooky.
So we sit for a few minutes, together.
She eventually tires of being all angry, and she slumps and snuggles into my side. She lifts enormous doe eyes to mine and speaks sweetly, “Is this pleasant enough?”
And she flutters her eyelashes. Sticks out her bottom lip.
Just a bit.
Her future boyfriends?
Are all kinds of screwed.
I hug her and then release her, “Go. Go have breakfast.”
I can hear her discussing my cruelty with Mark as she pours herself a glass of orange juice, “Why is Mommy so bossy and mean about everything?”
And Mark answers, “The bossy and mean one this morning? That was you. You know . . . you may want to consider a different approach next time. Something nicer.”
Kallan is all indignant, “Hello, Daddy? Do you not even know me? Have we not met?”
I hear the refrigerator close, and then she completes her thought . . .
“I am Kallan.”
______________________________________
GUEST POST ALERT!!!!
I am guest posting over at Kelsey’s this morning! Check out her blog at Polished Portrayal. And check out my post, which is called The Swarm.
And leave a comment.
Because you love me.
You know you do.
Oh, you are such a delightful and turbulent family! It makes me feel so fresh, so peaceful, and so low key over here at my empty nest! LOVE YOU. Kallan is a very smart girl. Will be a great future for her,I am sure. She may be a famous actress, and artist, or who knows, A WRITER??? molly
A writer?
ACK!
If Kallan turns out to be a writer?
I am all kinds of screwed.
People?
Make a note . . . Kallan lies a lot.
The other morning we got our morning wake-up call over the monitor. I turned to my husband and said, “I’ll give you $10 if you let me sleep ’til 7:30.”
“Fine”, he said.
I fell back asleep and woke up at 7:45. I walked in the living room and saw my boys playing in the floor.
“You were supposed to wake me up at 7:30″ I said.
“I was going to let you sleep ’til 8:00. Go back to bed, I’ll wake you up when it’s time.”
“Ok”, I say, “but I’m not paying you extra.”
That’s the man I married.
I love that!
The man you married?
All swoon-worthy.
Tell him I said so.
Also? Devilishly handsome.
I’ll let him know you think so.
Devilishly handsome, you say?
I am a big fan of devilly!
YAY for you!
I love that. do you not know me? brilliant.
at least she knows who she is.
Yes.
She?
Is Kallan.
Duh.
SNORT!
Himself brings me a cup of perfectly executed coffee (which is not an easy undertaking – I have irrational coffee needs) to wake me up every morning. I’ve written sonnets about it, it is so lovely.
He and Mark are cut from the same marryable cloth, it seems.
And I am lucky that my mornings seldom involve screaming.
They do, however, often involve running out of hot water.
Three teenagers, you know.
I have read of your husband’s coffee skills.
I have fewer coffee requirements than you do, I believe.
But our men?
Happily and similarly . . . marryable.
I remember my dad doing the same thing to my mom when I was little. I think she got wise. When I was old enough to drive and I would ask her to use the car she would say – “If your dad says it is okay it is fine with me.” I would run and tell my dad what Mom had just said and his answer was always the same – “I GUESS!” I didn’t wait around to see if there were any fireworks. haha!
Your family sounds awesome. Thanks for sharing it with us!
I NEVER say, “It’s alright with me if it’s alright with your dad,” unless what I actually mean is, “Yeah, go ahead.”
The girls have Mark?
Wrapped around their fingers.
That girl is hilarious! I don’t know how you keep up with your household!
Sometimes?
I just lie quietly for a while and hope the storm will just move past me.
But mostly?
My family is way entertaining and lovely.
Thank you!
My favourite parts are the mimicked tantrum because I would totally and have done that AND Kallan’s response about being positive there will be pleasant moments in her future. This post provided me with a most pleasant moment.
Kallan and I?
We are much alike.
We butt heads occasionally.
So far? My head is harder.
So far.
I would have ruined that whole discipline thing by laughing! LOVED this post. I’ll be back to read more!
Kallan gets away with so much misbehavior around here because she is so awesomely funny.
I giggle a lot.
And I look forward to your return!
When Sophie wants something she shouldn’t have? I try to do the letting-down as calmly and drama-free as possible, because she takes it better from me than from her mother. Molly gets the Hurricane Sophie version, with the wailing and the Eyes of Hatred and the gnashing of teeth, while I generally get a sullen “Ooooooh,” and then she is over it and back to whatever she was doing.
I am apparently the good one for the breaking of bad news. I should get a part-time job doing that.
Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry to tell you, but your husband and four children were all horribly burned beyond recognition in a freak carnival accident involving propane, caramel kettle corn and a toothless carnie clown.”
Her: “Ooooooh… well, at least now the house will maybe stay clean after I vacuum. Hah hah hah!”
Me: “Hee hee! Say, could I have a second cup of your fine coffee?”
Her: “Funny. My husband never wants a second cup. Oh! Well, I guess I don’t have to worry about that any more, either. Hah hah hah!”
Me: “Hee hee!”
Yeah, it would be just like that.
You?
Are demented.
I love that in a person.
I use the line “have you even met me?” to my husband all the time.
But Kallan is a character and I love reading about her. It always makes me smile.
I smile all the time over here.
It is lovely to have met Kallan.
What can I say?
It gets me the chicks.
Crazy is sexy!
Why is the theme song to Shaft playing?
Because I?
I am a bad mother…
You?
Shut your mouth.
I’m just talking about…
Well, about me, actually.
Can you dig it?
Happy digging sighs.
speaking of mornings this morning I tell MB to go get ready for school. She whines I need you to go with me…I stand tall and say I am getting myself ready and then I will deal with you. Couldn’t believe my luck when I come out 10 min later, yes she had left me alone, and she is all dressed and ready for school. Shoes and socks too. I will marry this man…he went and helped her get ready and gave me a morning off.
They don’t tell you about those little things.
The things that make a man a husband.
And make a woman swoon.
Swoon.
Cookies one day for breakfast, but no hot chocolate this morning? What’s WRONG with you?! Kallan, all kinds of awesomeness and stubborness, and hot headedness. I’m pretty sure she got this from you. This is definitely a Kris trait. Also, Daniel used to let me sleep, and then our baby became a toddler, and only wants mom for certain things….this means I do any and all night wakes, breakfast (for him b/c my husband is grown and can totally microwave his own waffles or pour his own cereal) and baths. Also, how do they learn this “play your parents against each other” routine so young? Dawson will already go to Dad when Mom says no and he’s 19 months old!
My girls are always well aware of the power and its movement.
They are all geniusy that way.
They get that from me.
Ahem.
Oh, the little things we cherish, like coffee in the morning (made by someone else!) that we never thought mattered before we met the loves of our lives … my husband even takes our baby out of the house sometimes so I can sleep in in the mornings on the weekend! Then he wakes me up at like 10:30am with a Starbucks Coffee and tells me he put her for her nap! YAY for great hubbies! :D
Yes, indeed.
Yay for the little things that make our men great husbands.
That came out all kinds of wrong.
YAY!
I love accidental inappropriateness.
My dad would always make the mistake of promising something my mom would never let us have / do.
Then he’d just run away.
Snort!