I Blame My Bad Parenting On A Lack Of Coffee

I didn’t have coffee yesterday until mid-morning, and as a result, I committed bad parenting multiple times, all in the space of an hour.

I blame the coffee’s absence.

As the small people breakfasted, I remembered that my first grader was supposed to bring something in for what I guess could be called “Show and Smell.” He was given a lunch bag with a note that said to bring something the other kids in his class could smell and try to guess its identity. His teacher specified that the item not be yucky smelling, which I’m assuming was based on experience.

He had planned to do it the night before while he packed his lunch, but with all the shuffle of everything else in that space of time between dinner and bedtime, he forgot.

Therefore, when I saw the bag on the counter at breakfast yesterday morning, I groggily asked my son to think of something to put in it. I thought of chocolate, of course, but quickly nixed that idea when I read the sentence on the bag, “Please only use things that we can dispose of afterward.”

As if.

My son started brainstorming, and his brother helped, throwing out the idea of a small scoop of peanut butter. Not thinking and knowing that encouraging deliberation would be like a guaranteed sacrifice of hours of my life, as soon as he smiled, with lightning speed I got out the jar and scooped some into a snack bag.

So basically, I did some kid’s homework in the presence of a teacher. The teacher being me, of course. Yes, I firmly believe that the right thing to do would have been to have my son scoop the peanut butter himself. But this is what happens when I haven’t had coffee in the morning. Guess what else happens? Most of you have probably already figured this one out.

As I was pulling the spoon out of the bag, the Duh! moment hit me and I remembered about nut allergies (potentially with other students in the class). It was immediately obvious, therefore, that this would not be what the small people have been carefully trained to call “making a good choice.”

I set the bag aside and thought as fast as I’m able to without coffee. My son looked at me bewildered. Then, my older son saved the day again by coming up with the idea of an onion. (So did he just, in the end, do his brother’s homework for him? Pretty much.) So, we (we being me, again) quickly chopped up a few small pieces of onion, put them in a bag, and the boys ran off to their room to shower and dress. As we were tight on time, I asked them to limit their showers to about 30 seconds each.

Then, as they’ve been prone to long showers lately, I said, “I’m going to take this opportunity to teach you how long a 30 second shower lasts,” and stood outside the bathroom door while each boy showered and I counted to 30 loud enough to be a timer for any neighbors in need of one as well. While counting, I tried to multitask by also folding laundry. This was extremely effective, I thought, since the boys followed my count exactly. That is, until I went downstairs, looked at the clock and realized the two sets of thirty seconds somehow had added up to 10 minutes. Clearly, my mental clock was off, and clearly I had also taught them that when I say 30 seconds, I really mean more like 5 minutes.

Subsequently, I decided that perhaps I’d be a better parent if I had coffee before the small people left for school.

This morning, however, I found myself faced with a dilemma. LCB had indicated that he might have time to go out for breakfast this morning after all the kids were in school.

This is something we’ve started doing occasionally since last year, when my youngest started preschool. I’d love to paint this picture for you of a glamorous island life style, where we regularly dine by the ocean at sunset, either in restaurants with white linens eating lobster bisque and ahi tuna, or at little local hangouts with Polynesian vibes where you can sink your toes in the sand while they bring you buckets of shrimp and ice cold beer.

But that would be a lie.

Instead, of late, we’ve taken to breakfast dates at IHOP. As in, the International House of Pancakes. It’s true. We could pretty much be in South Dakota and not know any better.

On our old island, it was a considerable drive to get to an IHOP. On the new island, however, we have one much closer, and, get this, they sent us a sheet of BOGO coupons! Plus, if we go for breakfast rather than dinner, then we also don’t have the hassle and expense of a sitter.

So, LCB does his courting at the IHOP. Which, lest you laugh, is actually a step up from the premarital courting.

But back to my dilemma. I had resolved last night to drink a cup of coffee right when I got up this morning so that my head would be clearer during the launching of the small people. However, if I was headed to IHOP post-launch, I would also be consuming coffee there. And here’s the thing. Like most restaurants, IHOP has unlimited coffee refills, which I feel the need to use with abandon.

This is why I generally steer clear of buffets. I have this weird thing about all-you-can-consume where I need to see how much all-you-can-consume would be. The theory is partly about getting my money’s worth and partly about if famine struck tomorrow, if I stuff my face with food today, it will be a bit longer before I have to travel to Egypt and beg the brother I sold into slavery for food.

Figuratively.

But all-you-can-drink coffee brings up similar feelings, so I drink a great deal, which feels great for an hour.

And then, not so much.

And then my arm starts hurting in what may or may not be some sort of Raynaud’s/Thoracic Outlet Syndrome Combo (a post series in itself) that I may or may not have, and suddenly the coffee’s ride is not worth the fall.

So I didn’t have any coffee again this morning while readying the small people for school, since I was certain I’d be overdoing it later at IHOP.

The result?

1. Older son almost walked out the door wearing younger son’s shorts (again!) had he not caught it himself.
2. Younger son may or may not have a water bottle with him today at school. I’m really not sure.
3. For inexplicable reasons, I accidentally brought my daughter’s show-and-tell into her brothers’ room where, fortunately, she found it.
4. And finally, I put my older son’s lunch in my younger son’s backpack, caught it, and handed it back to my older son, who then left it in the minivan when I dropped him off. Where it would likely still be right now, were it not for the kind, observant lady who helped him out of the car. As he was walking away, she looked his seat, then at me (with a look that may have said, “You look a lot like An Island Mom, this weird lady whose blog I’ve read, so if you are her, clearly you’re a woman who needs assistance.”), and said, “Is this his lunch bag?” I nodded gratefully and she called him back to grab his bag.

The scary thing is, these are just the things I’m aware of.

Tomorrow?

Coffee or bust.