'Mary' had a little lamb, its fleece was, well, not white as snow...
Monday morning goes as follows:
I was up and ready! I dropped Kathryn off at school and headed to Mass. (God knew I needed to be there this morning more than I!)
What a beautiful morning!
I joyfully came home, ready to seize the day. Carpe Dium! My other school go-ers were getting ready, well two of them anyway. I went back into the room of the younger two, reminding them to get up before they miss their ride with Dad. I could hear a bit of grumbling as I left the room, but they seemed to be moving the the right direction!
However, it came to be, they didn't move fast enough. Dear Dad took the older two, and I told him I would take the other two, so the bigger ones wouldn't be late. Off they went. Carpe Dium!
I helped Daniel tie his shoes, and started prepping the others to load up. I called up to Michael, "We're leaving, let's go please!" No answer...
I run up the stairs, taking two at a time here and there. (It's better exercise, you know!) Call for Michael again. No answer. Hmm, maybe he went to the bathroom. "Michael, we need to go." No answer. Back to his room. "Michael, where are you?" No answer. "Michael!" Getting desperate, I call, "Does anyone know where Michael is?" Daniel responds, "He's in the closet." I went back to the closet. No Michael. Search the room, search his brother's room. Back to the closet, move around the sleeping bags, no Michael. Hmm. "Michael, come on, we HAVE to go!" Fifteen minutes of searching, and I state, "If you don't show yourself, the wooden spoon will! And it won't feel good!" Still, nothing!
I began to think, "God, are you still with me?" I could feel the anger coming on as I shouted again, "Michael!" So much for going to church; I was becoming militant for sure, but not exactly church militant. I marched down the stairs mumbling to myself how this child is going to get it - and get it bad. I couldn't believe I was dealing with this. It was a nice morning. I shoved the utensils around looking for a good wooden spoon, and yelled again, "Michael, you better not make me use this!" Then I had this chilling thought that someone was enjoying this scene: Not good!
Ok, God, you need to help me here, I'm losing it! Help me calm down.
Yes, calling on His name helped me. I began to relax. I thought of this boy of mine, and how I needed to follow through with the consequence I gave him. I thought to myself, oh, I know, I will test the wooden spoon on my own hand to see how hard I can hit it to make it hurt, but not bad. Brilliant, God! I'm ready. I walk up the stairs, stating, "Michael, this is you last chance!" Please come out." No Michael. I searched his closet again- a bit more thoroughly, and finally found him curled up behind some hanging snowpants. Firmly, I state, "Let's go, get up!" His reply, "No, I'm not going to school!" I dragged him out. The spoon stung his but; he began to get ready, and I loaded the kids into the van.
*to be continued...