I find myself awake before the sun again this morning. Hopefully, sleep has
washed away some of the angst that has been swirling around my house. Yesterday
was a rough day for all of us. I have ordered some ridiculously expensive
sleeping bags for the kids, to be presented to Their Royal Highnesses on my
son's birthday in September. One is a Unicorn, the other a Dinosaur. I hope
someone will remind them how truly spoiled I tried to make them, when they
complain as teenagers that I will not buy them a BMW. The day got off to a
rip-roaring start when our Mail Carrier pulled up in front of the house. We
usually don't see her until the afternoon, but we had a package today. Oh, no.
Virtually all packages are met with glee by my oldest. She assumes that 1) it's
for her and 2) now is as good a time as ever to open it. Since she was an
infant, I have bought almost everything online and had it shipped. I greet
packages with glee, too. It feels like Christmas morning. I can't fault her
for being excited...but I have to figure out a way to get gifts for the kids
past her. Since the adoption of our dog, Donna, we've kept a padlock on the
latch when she's out in the yard, so that she doesn't take herself for a walk if
the gate is opened by a delivery person or girl scout. We installed a loud bell
on the gate, so if the gate doesn't budge, they can ring the bell and we'll
corral the dog. This has been working great, since the kids can't escape (yet),
the dog is secure and solicitors are generally not bold enough to ring the bell.
Even better, the delivery people know that they can leave the package outside
the fence and give us a quick 'clang.' I can easily retrieve it when the kids
are otherwise occupied, and avoid the "Oooh, mommy! A present for MEEEEEE."
Yesterday, we all heard the bell. The mail-lady didn't want to just leave the
box, because mail is frequently stolen in our area. I was hissing through the
fence "Just leave it just leave it" as my oldest rounded the corner of the yard.
The mail-lady didn't take the hint, and sang out "You've got a PACK-age!" With
that, my 5 year old accelerated to my side and began bouncing up and down. "A
pack-age, a pack-age!" Urg. So I shoo her away, collar the dog, retrieve the
package, thank the mail-lady and push the gate closed. The dog took off down
the fence line to woof at some kids, while my daughter snatched at the box with
outstretched arms. "What's in there, mommy? Is it for me? Let's open it!" I
move at light speed through the front door and jettison the package onto my bed.
I try to make it out of my room and shut the door, but the kids have caught up.
"Mommy, I wanna see in the box. What's in there, Mommy? Mommy. Mommy, open
it." I try a stall tactic. "It's nothing, really. Just some silly stuff
Daddy wanted. You know, golf stuff. Nothing fun for kids." She tries again:
"Let's see it, Mommy. Let's wrap it for Daddy so he'll be surprised!" Okay,
this isn't going well. "Honey, it's too lumpy to wrap." Now she's getting
agitated. "I can DO it Mommy. Let's open it up. I wanna see it. I WANNA SEE
IT." The baby and my son lose interest, but the 5 year old has locked onto the
target. Quick! Bait and switch! "Honey, do you want to see your Halloween
costume?" "Nooooooo! I want the box open. Please, Mommy." At this point, I
make a miscalculation. I decide to level with her. "Sweetheart, that box has
birthday surprises in it. Not for Daddy, for you kids. I don't want to ruin
the surprise, so I can't show it to you. You'll see it on your brother's
birthday." This only served to rachet up the excitement factor by 1000 and
restart the pleading in earnest. After 20 minutes of whining, pleading and
arguments worthy of a trial attorney, I marched the entire box out into the
garage and shoved it high on a shelf, and locked the garage door. The floodgates
opened. "Waaaaaaaaah! Mommy! How would YOU feel if I had a present for YOU
and I wouldn't give it to you? How would YOU feel if I told you it was for
Daddy's birthday? Mommy! Waaaaaaaah! I'm going to stay in my room forEVER and
I'm NOT coming out. Waaaaaaah!" Having her confined to her room didn't sound
like a negative, but I tried to be calm and fair. "Honey, what about Christmas?
We like Christmas surprises..." "Waaaaaaaah! No! I HATE surprises!
Christmas STINKS!" Great. Okay. Deep, cleansing breath. I wade back in. "I
understand how you feel, but I'm not going to ruin the surprise." She put her
hands on her hips, and turned her blotchy face towards mine. She blinked hard a
few times, got a few crocodile tears running and said, "Mommy, you just show me
NOW, and I'll ACT surprised later." Nice try, but no. And so began the
soundtrack of my day. "Waaaaaaah! How would YOU feel?" This lasted 5 hours,
with intermittent breaks (like the mudpie fest) and left me hanging onto the
tattered shreds of my sanity. Just when we seemed to be over it, she would wind
up like an air raid siren and we would begin again. That girl of mine is
persistent. Knock wood, today, because we haven't had any mention of it. And
I'm celebrating because I managed to get through it without screaming back. The
kicker is only half of the order arrived in that box, and the other will arrive
at some unknown time in the future. I'm going to make a sign for the fence that
says "Ring the bell and run like hell. Surprise-hating 5 year old on premise."