My Son Is Trouble and mumble, mumble, The Washington Post Called!

“What me cause trouble? You must be thinking of someone else? My son suffering from strep throat.

Let’s just say we had a “night” and leave it at that. Oh, you want me to elaborate. Well, O.K. My son — the star of this post — came home from school in an especially cheerful mood. He was full of plans for two buddies to come over to play. He even drew a map with on a little help from me. A good end of the school day/beginning of the home day type of day.

I heated up a Stouffer’s French Bread pizza for a snack…an especially yummy snack at that. While all three — the kid, the preteen, and the teen — were watching TV and eating a snack, I grabbed a quick shower. As I descended I could already hear the arguments over — well, who the heck knows with these three — probably any of a million things.

From that point on the day was done for my kid, he moved from aggravating his sisters to running around near the stove to telling me he wasn’t hungry for dinner to telling he was hungry for dinner. He was in short a confused mess. I’ve found from the start of Kindergarten that the afternoons and evenings when he comes home from school are not good. Weekends are golden! Weekdays — not good with a capital “N” and “G.”

And so it went on. Just as I was prepping the meatloaf for the oven. For those shocked at this since I am certifiable noncook — the in laws sent it over on Easter. Must be truthful in my reporting. The phone rang and it was The Washington Post — said in my most nonchalant voice as if The Washington Post calls my house on a regular basis.

To recap…several weeks I responded to a request from a Post reporter about ways that moms were coping in these dire economic times. I leapt at the chance because hello, The Washington Post AND getting a chance to ramble on and on about anything with anyone. SAHM = Doesn’t Get Out Much.

We exchanged e-mails and I though that was the end of that. But, then the call back. So exciting. Me talking to a real life reporter. Big Time. In my pre-child life I was production editor for a health care publisher. But, the authors I rubbed shoulders with — and by rubbed shoulders with I mean rubbed my shoulder on the phone as I believe I only met one author in 10 years at the company — were doctors, nurse managers, contract lawyers. I don’t even remember all their names. Nancy Trejos was a pleasure to talk to. It was quite exciting talking to her as she typed a mile a minute because as I have said I talk fast and ramble like you wouldn’t believe. I kept picturing the Watergate/All the President’s Men newsroom…geek/olde fogey!

I’ll post more about our conversation in my next post.

Back to the boy. As I was on the phone he was ransacking a box of goodies I received for review. I don’t blame him really…I mean ball, tee ball tee, bubbles, ball, jumprope, ball. But I was not happy that this was happening while I was on the phone…with a Post reporter!

I managed to burn the rice again. Seriously who burns rice in a box. Me = Noncook. Dinner was O.K. The rice was replaced by nothing as we had to get to swimming. On the way to swimming it was arguments, tantrum, argument. I banned him from talking in the van. He really loves swimming just hates to go.

So we had quite a night. Grocery run, Pizza Hut and American Idol on TIVO and all was well. Now what will tomorrow’s behavior bring…eeep!

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