Oh The Mess

Let me preface what I am going to say with the following:

I adore my child.

I love him so much.

I mean it.

He is about the cutest damn kid on the planet. He is beautiful, funny, smart, incredibly observant, and fun to hang around. He makes me laugh daily with the things that come out of his mouth.

Deciding to become a single mom by choice was truly the best decision of my life. I have no regrets, other than I wish I would have done it sooner.

But sometimes, even my beautiful and delightful Aidan bugs the living crap out of me.

Which of course makes me feel bad.

Let me give you a few examples from this weekend:

Saturday morning:

Aidan-watching cartoons.

Me-working on my lecture notes. Power Point presentation. New textbook, new notes and newer info. I’m trying to make my notes engaging, concise, and enjoyable. I actually LIKE making lecture notes. I enjoy the creative process and was really getting into it. Then the interruptions began.

Mommy?

What?

Mommy?

What?

Mommy?

What honey?

Mommy, watch me!

Okay.

(watch him briefly, then try to work again)

Mommy?

What?

Mommy?

What?

Mommy?

What honey?

Watch me mommy!

You get the idea. ARGHHHHHHH!!!

This went on for about 30-40 minutes, all the while Noggin Jr. and Aidan’s motorized racecar are blaring in the background. 

I know what you are thinking:

What kind of idiot tries to work in the middle of the day with their toddler awake? You ask: Why don’t you do it after he is asleep??

Because I am asleep too.

He gets up between 5:30 to 6:00 EVERY DAY.

He takes a 2 to 3 hour nap each day.

I do not.

So working late just sometimes does not work.

Sunday night:

I have my old lecture notes spread out on the table. A voluminous combination of overhead transparencies, articles, and pages and pages of notes neatly placed in clear protectors in piles so I can find them. I am referencing these notes while I work on my new ones.

Referencing the said notes is exactly what I was trying to do, when in one fell swoop Aidan deliberately knocked the entire binder off the table, and all my papers went flying across the floor. Thirteen chapters worth of notes, now out of order on the floor.

OMG I was pissed.

I yelled and insisted he clean up the mess he just made.

He grabbed a paper and crinkled it up.

OMG!

I urged him to pick it up more carefully.

As he bent down to pick up a page I went into the kitchen.

A moment later I heard:

Look mommy! I am making snow angels!

I walk into the room and

There he is, on top of my plastic covered lecture notes,

Grinning from ear to ear, waving his hands and feet

Pretending he is in the snow.

I agree, this is kind of creative, and well actually pretty funny too if you think about it, but it put me over the edge.

I was livid.

I yelled and told him to pick up the papers NOW.

He did not.

So I grabbed his hand and used my hand to *help* him pick up each paper while he screamed bloody murder that he could do it himself.

My answer?

Doing snow angels is not picking up my papers!

I could have strangled my beautiful, sweet child.

Really.

I did not.

 

This morning:

I am in the kitchen, preparing my breakfast and lunch.

I have the box of Cheerios on the counter.

Aidan walks over, grabs the box and pours the contents onto the floor.

OMG!!!

You know the cartoons where the person is so mad they turn red and steam comes out of their ears?

That was me.

I was going to make him pick that up too, but Rigley was all ready cleaning up the mess as soon as it hit the floor.

I asked Aidan “WHY did you DO that?”

His response:

“I was mad!”

If he only knew.