Wyatt woke up in a funk- disheveled hair (of course), crusty eyes, and tears. It was my morning to get him ready and take him to the sitters. Let’s just say that I am out of practice in morning rituals. Wyatt is the ‘wake up slowly, take off all my clothes, grab a cup (or bottle if some poor sucker falls for his trickery), and relax while watching Mickey Mouse naked’ type. I, on the other hand, am more of the ‘get up, throw on some clothes, eat and do my make-up in the car simultaneously’ type. Our styles make for an interesting morning as you will see...
He was pretty much screaming from the second Brett walked out the front door. He wanted to watch Mickey Mouse on my bed, but we had about 3 minutes to get out of the house before I would be late for work. Ding Ding, round 1. I had to literally fight to get his shirt on. Then he threw such a whaling fit that he got a spanking :( Followed by more screaming, kicking of the legs, and hitting of the mommy in the face. Followed by another spanking :( Followed by the piece de resistance ... the peeing on the mommy. Now, normally any official would say that in this Mother/Son Mixed Martial Arts match Wyatt would have won. Until……. The stream of pee goes from mommy to his own face (he was laying down- to help you visualize). And this was the first morning pee, so you can imagine the gravity of the situation. Wyatt kicked up the screaming two notches. I took off the shirt I had worked so hard to get on and put him in the shower. I was considering ear plugs at this point. As I turned to get a towel… BOOM! Down he goes, face first, in the shower. My ears are bleeding now. I got him out of the shower (he wasn’t hurt) and wrapped him in a towel. I cannot tell you how I got him in his clothes. Some super woman must have intervened, and though I was deaf at this point, we were one step closer to getting out the door. Then something magical happened. Wyatt saw his jacket. Someone flipped the switch. He stopped crying. “Jacket, Jacket, Dat one!” As he slipped into the jacket he became my little angel again and the screaming ceased. Truce.
Outside he waited for me at the porch. “Hand” he said reaching for mine. We walked hand in hand to the car. The ride was mostly silent. I was rehashing the hellacious events in my mind; feeling guilty like only a mother can.
“Momma” he says.
“Yes baby?”
“I la you” he says.
God, I love this child. As I wipe a tear from my eye, I look down and catch a glance of myself. I am still wearing my pee pants- to work.
(Side note, this picture is not from this morning- see no jacket here. Don't worry Mom I did not take this picture myself while putting on my make-up and driving!)
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