Repeata-Rita

What's up, y'all?

What's up, y'all?

What's up, y'all?

Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just stuck on "repeat myself" mode after getting the kids ready for school this morning. Does anybody else ever feel like you just say the same thing OVER AND OVER AGAIN AD INFINITUM like a broken effin' record? Just a minute ago, as a matter of fact, I asked my three-year-old to go down to the laundry room, open the door, and turn the light off. And it went something like this:

"Coby, can you please go open the laundry room door and turn the light off?"

Coby starts down the stairs. Is distracted by a piece of fuzz.

"Coby. Can you please go open the laundry room door? And turn the light off? Please?"

Coby, still rolling the fuzz between his fingers, finishes descending the stairs. Opens door. Walks into laundry room and starts inspecting the contents of the pantry therein.

"Turn the light off please!"

Coby drops the fuzz and grabs bottles of water from the pantry. "Mom, I got you a drink!"

"Thank you, but we have water in the fridge. Put those back and then turn off the light."

Coby puts the water back. Fingers longingly over a box of scalloped potatoes. "Can we have these?"

"Coby. It's 8 o'clock in the morning. We're not having scalloped potatoes. TURN. OFF. THE LIGHT and get up here."

Coby scrambles up the stairs.

"COBY! THE LIGHT!!!"

That's pretty much how my whole morning goes. Every morning. I swear my kids have a "Mommy's voice" filter in their brains that just selectively screens out anything I say unrelated to Mario Brothers, the playground, or Chuck E. Cheese. I guess they must be honing that special man-skill of tuning out the wife's voice later on in life. (Which by the way is equally annoying ... cough*Curtis*cough.)

Colin's shoes, for example. I had to tell him no fewer than six or seven times this morning to put them on. And it's like ... just put the damn things on already. Am I asking you to donate a kidney? No. Am I asking you to consider spending a year as a monk in the furthest reaches of Tibet? No. I'm asking you to put your shoes on. It's not something that takes a lot of thought, or preparation, or emotional readiness.

Now if I had asked him to fold a basket of laundry, I'd totally understand the procrastination. My clean laundry is working on day three in the basket as we speak.

But I'm the mom, dammit.