Tuesday, May 6, 2008

A mocha flavoured slap in the face

Yesterday I was all ready to take Maggie's advice and focus on the enjoyment of motherhood rather than the unavoidable drudgery it sometimes entails. The baby had taken a good nap and the girls were chomping at the bit to get out into the first sunshine we had seen in four or five days. 

They love to eat their snack outside sitting on a picnic blanket, so I got some crackers and cheese for them and made myself a treat. Several times a week, in need of a mid-afternoon pick-me-up, I'll make a caffeinated beverage. Lately, with the weather warming up, my drink of choice has been iced mocha. A shot of espresso, a squirt of chocolate syrup, and a big slug of skim milk poured over ice. If I'm really indulging, as I was yesterday, I'll top it off with a crown of whipped cream.  

As I got organised to head out into the backyard (shoes, hoodies, hats, juiceboxes ... really it can never be easy), Little Miss #1 was jumping, or climbing, or some combination of four year old kinesthetics, and she knocked. over. my. mocha.
.
.
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Nobody breathed for a second or two and then she wailed, I'm sorry, mama, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. And then -- without waiting for me to reassure her that we don't cry over spilt milk, or mocha, or whatever, it was an accident honey, please don't be upset, I'm not mad at you -- I wanna go outside! 

And then I was mad. Oh, I was so angry I could barely see. I handed the girls their snacks and sent them, both wailing now, to eat in the dining room. The baby just sat in his highchair silently regarding my frustration. The pool, I mean ocean, of mocha dripped off the table, onto and off the chair, and into a large puddle on the tile, soaking into the rug. It had splashed onto the wall and the window sill and the baseboard heating vent. It took me 20 minutes to clean up. It would have taken 15 minutes but for the constant interruptions. Is it time to go outside yet? Are we going outside? Are you finished yet? Is it cleaned up? When are we going outside?

And then we went outside. And I focussed on enjoying motherhood, having paid the price of mocha flavoured drudgery.


5 comments:

briwei said...

Well, we don't cry over spilt milk. Mocha is an entirely different story. I am quite confident that she-who-needs-her-caffeine would have cried over the loss of such a delectable treasure.

Glad you recovered enough to enjoy mothering for a while. Was #1 son at school or something?

sjb said...

Yes, he was still at school. You'd be proud, Bri, he was actually at rehearsal for his school's production of Peter Pan. He's playing John. They're having 3 shows this weekend (Friday and Saturday sold out, so they added a Sunday show), and they are even flying! His school is K-8 and they put on a huge production every year. I'll be glad when it's over though, because going to school from 8:30-2:30 and then having rehearsal until 6 or 7 every night is a lot for a little kid. I will no doubt be posting (including the photos I plan to take with my awesome new zoom lens) about it next week.

Stickthulhu said...

The tragedy is increased because your mochas totally rock! Besides, you had one today without incident.

I've always noticed that spilling stuff - particularly large volumes - brings out the worst in me. Well, not the worst, but a reaction far out of proportion to what it should be. Getting by it is a chore sometimes, and I don't think I could have done it as quickly as you did.

briwei said...

Spilling large volumes triggers a disproportional reaction for me as well. Wonder why that is.

Maggie said...

That is my favorite treat as well, sjb -- absolutely an iced mocha!!

And your story is so sadly/hilariously true -- I wouldn't have been angry either until the selfish little "now what are you going to do for me" part came up. LOL. Ahhh, children. However, your children are quite a bit younger than mine, and selfishness is simply built in at that age.

It's soooo wonderful when they can put on their own sunscreen and pack their own little bags -- basically prepare themselves for a task. I have one that can do it, one that can't, plus a husband. Husband can get himself prepared usually but hasn't yet figured out that the children still need some coaching/advice.