kids just don’t understand

morning — not early, but anyway — say, 9am. a good 7 hours of restless sleep behind me, still unprepared for the getting out of the bed. my body wants to stay while my mind insists otherwise, or is it the other way around? don’t ask me, it’s too early for that.

shuffle into the kitchen, glad that the elaborate preparation of cappuccinos is an instinctive behaviour at this point; it was years ago last i did this, but it’s like riding a bike – grind the beans, pack the doser, fill the water, brew the espresso, foam the milk… wait. that’s nothing like riding a bike at all. but if riding a bike produced such an amazing beverage, why, i’d probably do it more often, wouldn’t i?

proceed to the computer to sip this nectar of the gods, & have that first cigarette of the day. i am barely conscious & already there are urgent emails from the early risers & the back-easters. i struggle valiantly to focus on the little shapes on the screen… letters? words? aha! sentences, finally, almost making sense…

have i mentioned that at no time during this process did the four year old stop bouncing through the kitchen even though i told him stay out of the room when i’m smoking? we have lots of doors, so it’s possible to run laps through the hallway, laundry room, kitchen, living room, hallway, etc. for the four year old this provides endless hyper fun, for the forty-one year old, major stress even at the best of times. & this is not the best of times, it cannot be, before coffee. it’s not so much the activity itself, as it is the associated noise level — think bowling alley. those little feet neither pitter nor patter.

i do not expect a child to understand what the forty-one year old mind & body feel like before they get their caffiene. but in the back of my mind i hear my mother’s voice & that parents’ curse: ?someday you are going to have children of your own, & they will be just like you.?

i had my son at about the same age as my mom adopted me, so we were four & forty-one at about the same time too. i get it, mom, i get it.

& so will the little guy, someday. oh, yes he will.

6 thoughts on “kids just don’t understand

  1. Ahhh, so she picked you? I would have too.

    I’ll have my own little four year old soon. Although, let’s just see if we can get past year two 😛

  2. melly, terrible two’s are nothing. four is two SQUARED. they’re bigger, they’re faster, & they know too much for their own good. or ours.

  3. coffee, part deaux. (ahhhhh…..)

    my sister is infertile and they adopted a very young child. i am impressed at how big a part of our lives is dictated, mostly in the sense of predilections, by genetics. this child is now in her mid-teens. my sister is having a rough time with it.

    God bless us all for undertaking the responsibility of raising children. if i had known then what i know now, i’d have had some serious second thoughts. don’t get me wrong — i love my children — but their raising is NOT an easy process.

    salute!

  4. oh! my parents had such the hard time with me too. my parents were the hard-working salt-of-the-earth types & i was more the lazy smartass type, & i can honestly say my attitude did not come from my environment.

    i am so fortunate to have had my daughter at 22, because she was one of your easier kids to raise, & it’s actually a good thing that i had my wild child at 36, because i couldn’t have handled him in my younger years.

    my middle kid lives with his dad, & i do admit that’s for the best, too. they fit.

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