Squishing About in My Brain

Finally, a little bit o’joy in the morning!

Posted on: February 6, 2009

Now, as much as I joke about my daughter the TEENAGER (insert scary zombie movie music here), she really is NOT a bad kid. Bad for her is not the same as bad for anyone else I know…I DO realize that. I worked hard to get her to this point, and it IS paying off…Like me, Genevieve is NOT a morning person. In fact, we are both of the notion that commerce and such should not start until noonish.

SO, here is the first truly joyous and unexpected morning we have had in YEARS.Happened this morning:

Her cat woke me up at 4 a.m., howling next to my bed…for the second morning in a row. I closed her out of my room, and tried to go back to sleep. MY cat started buggin me at 6. (Note: the alarm does not go off until 7.) Kicked her out too. The pug, wisely, values sleep as much as me and Genevieve, and so went back to bed with me. (None of this is the joy….wait for it.)Genevieve got up early to take a shower. I heard her do it. SO, my alarm goes off at 7, and I ignore it for ten minutes.

But, y’know…the bladder. SO, I get up, blearly-eyed and cotton-brained from the 4 and 6 a.m. wakeup calls by pets who obviously WANT to have their lives ended, and I go into the bathroom and while the dog and I are sitting there (she follows me EVERYWHERE, people…and that early in the morning, I do not care), and suddenly my nose wakes up. What is that smell?! Maybe Genevieve made herself cup o’noodle for breakfast, cuz it smells like FOOD, and that just does NOT happen in our house in the morning.

So we toddle on out to the “Feed me, bitch!” howls of the cats, and…

It will be a shock…

My daughter, clad in a bathrobe and with her hair still in a towel, says, in a cheerful voice (which I never hear before noon usually!), “Good morning, Momma! I made you EGGS!”

I’m sorry…what?

I rub my eyes, and squint at her, and she babbles, “I was up early, and I watched Brianna make fried eggs yesterday at her house, so…I made you eggs! If they are bad, you don’t have to eat them, it’s my first time, and I won’t be mad.You’ll also notice there are SIX eggs missing, and you and I only have two eggs each…”

I’m sorry–are those happy, full sentences coming out of this child at 7:15a.m.?! Where is Rod Serling?

“Buuuut…my first egg like folded itself into an accordian so that was no good. And the second one I dropped on the floor so…yeah. The cats were all over that one, but I stopped them!”

Ooookay. Is my child on drugs?

“So, you go ahead and take the dog out, and I’ll put your plate in the microwave so the cats don’t get it!”


Of course, it is raining outside, so the dog is very UNwilling to do her thing so I can get back to this thing I think is called…”breakfast?” So, a good five minutes later, I’m back. Genevieve is nowhere to be found (which means she has gone to her scary room), so I think maybe I DID imagine it, and I feed the animals.And then I open the microwave.

It’s true. A plate. With two eggs and two pieces of toast. Perfect toast. Waiting to made into the perfect egg sandwich.

I am now awake. Shock will do that to a body, even at 7 a.m.

So I sit on the couch and eat my eggs and toast. The dog comes to make sure I don’t drop any. I don’t. Aside from the fact that my mom always made runny-yolk fried eggs, and these are completely fried, I must say…damn good. A little cold. Not her fault.

Genevieve comes out as I am eating the last few bites. I had TRIED to savor the meal and go slow, but…it was too good. And surprising. I ate like they were going to disappear.

“Mom, are they okay? If they aren’t okay, don’t eat them, it’s OKAY.”

“No, they are wonderful. Thank you. I appreciate them very much!”

“Really? Cuz it’s okay. Did you feed that to the dog?”

“OH hell no, I did not feed that to the dog. It’s good. I’m eatin it all myself.”

“Really? Cuz it’s my first time, so tell me if something is bad.”


“Oh good!”

And then, she hits me with it. The coup de grace. The killing stroke.

“I’ve decided I am going to cook a LOT more, cuz I mean, you dont LIKE to cook, and I DO, so…you buy the food, I’ll cook it for you.”

I’m sorry…I think I feel an aneurism coming on…repeat that?

So, I say the only thing I can think of…”Cool. Does that mean you’ll make those red velvet cupcakes tonight then?”

“Well, I don’t get home from that dance performance until…well I dont know, it doesn’t start until 7:30, so I dont know if I’ll be back in time, but I’ll make them Saturday. And when I DO get back tonight, we’ll have ice cream sundaes!”

I can HEAR my eyelids blinking…plink.plink.plink.


I immediately have to text the friends I text. One has a teenager (well, he is 20 NOW) from hell, and one is a teacher. I get great hoorays from the former; she tells me “There is a human in there with a big heart under all the alien teenager. Awwwww thats more than awesome!” The latter: that’s great. What does she want from you?heh heh

Now, last night I DID just cobble together every ounce of cash I had so the child could go to said dance performance with her friends tonight, BUT…her usual modus operandi is to get what she wants and turn grumpy and unappreciative again immediately. And she IS a generally free child…unless I have a reason, she does get to do what she wants to, after homework, chores, responsibilities held up…she IS poor, but she also DOES get to choose her life for the most part.

So, I am neither getting my hopes up that she WILL cook a lot, nor downplaying the proposed gift I see the offer as. I mean, this IS the child who whined because I asked her to make a Cup o’ Noodle for ME, too, when she made herself one last week…BUT she is also a really great kid, with a wonderful heart.

So, I decided that, just for today, I would live in the moment and appreciate the hell out those eggs she made me.

And I do.

I SO do.
And from now on, I am keeping the freezer stocked with bacon…just in case she does it again. Bacon would make it even better.


1 Response to "Finally, a little bit o’joy in the morning!"


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