And The Oscar Goes To....

...my almost 4-year-old daughter, Madelyne, for her dramatic performance in "Waking up on November 11, 2014."  

I've long since thought that Madelyne needs to become an actress.  She's a diva to the max, can drama queen any situation and basically makes life look hard for her age.  I think her previous performances would have earned her at least an Oscar nomination but this morning - she blows away all other performances.  To recap her performance:

6:45 AM
My peaceful dreamy sleep is woken up by the shrilling voice of my child.  "NOOOOOOOO!"  I hear.  I take a quick glance at my windows in case they break from the sound of a voice that is at least 3 octaves higher than Mariah Carey.

"GET OUT OF MY ROOM, GRANDPA!"  

I hear my dad hastily retreat to the sanctuary that is our downstairs.  In other words, he booked it and didn't look back.  I continue to lay in my bed with my arm flopped over my eyes.  Maybe if I ignore her, she will stop, I repeat to myself.  Five minutes tick by.  Then ten.  Then twenty.  Damn it.  I get out of bed and proceed down the hall stopping at my mom's room.  I take a quick peak.  My mom is in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin.  A wide eyed look of desperation on her face.

"What's going on?"  I ask with a morning groggy voice.
"I...I...I...just opened her door to see if she was awake," my mom stutters.
With an exasperated voice, I ask the obvious, "Why in God's name did you wake her up?"  
"I won't do that again," my mom whispers from her blanket cocoon.  "I learned my lesson."

"MOMMY!  MOMMY!  GET IN HERE!  MOMMY"  

I sigh.  Taking a deep breath, I force a happy smile on my face and plunge into the depths of hell - aka Madelyne's bedroom.  She's flopping like a fish all over her bed.  No tears.  All fake crying going on up in this room.  I cautiously sit down on the bed.

"What's wrong, Madelyne?"  I try to put my hand on her back.  She wails and I quickly move my hand lest she rips it off my arm.  She keeps screaming/wailing/flopping/fake crying until I finally told her that I was going to leave.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."
Sniff sniff.  "GRANDMA WOKE ME UP!"  

I seriously don't know what my mom was thinking.  Waking up Madelyne before she's ready is like the kiss of death.  Proceed at your own risk.  However, I granted my mom the defense of temporary insanity.  

After another 3-5 minutes of diva behavior, I gave her an ultimatum - the same ultimatum I give her every time she acts up in the morning.  

"Okay Madelyne.  You have two choices.  You can get up and start your day and get ready for school or you can stay in bed all day.  What do you want to do?"  The answer is always the same.  She usually pops out of bed.  This morning, however, I was in for a huge shocker.

"I want to stay home in bed all day."  Madelyne pulls the covers over her head.

Well shit.  Reverse psychology fail big time.  What the hell was I going to do?  She never takes the bait!  I had plans that day and they were slowing unraveling with this abrupt change.  I decided to keep playing her bluff.  Maybe, at 36, I was smarter than a preschooler.

I closed her curtains and turned off her light.  "Okay Madelyne.  Your choice.  Have a good day in bed and I will see you later."  I closed the door and walked into my mom's room.  

"What are we going to do?"  My mom asked petrified.  
"Maybe if you hadn't woken her up, this wouldn't have happened!"  I vehemently whispered.  
"I was trying to do her a favor!"  My mom said defending her actions.
I stopped.  "Oh my God."  I looked at my mom.  "This is what she wants.  She wants to turn us against each other."

Suddenly, Madelyne's door slowly opens.  She walks up to me.  

"Good morning, Mommy," she says in a sweet little voice.  "It looks like it's a good day to play on the playground at school."

It was a "Three Faces of Eve" moment.  Who was I talking to?  Madelyne?  An alter ego?  

Madelyne sauntered by me into Grandma's room.  She climbed on the bed and gave Grandma a hug.  

"I feel bad that I woke you up," my mom said.
"It's okay, Grandma.  I forgive you."  She got down off the bed and went to the stairs.  She starting walking down. I held my breath.  Halfway down she turned around.  

"Are you coming down, Mommy?"  She asked innocently.
"Mommy has to get dressed so I can take you to school."
Madelyne sat down on the stair.  "NOOOO!  I want you to come downstairs NOW!"
"You know what Madelyne?  I can't come down right now but Grandma is going to be right behind you."
"What?"  I hear my mom squeak from her bed.

I walked back to my mom's room.  "You caused this.  If you think you are going to hide in bed this morning and leave this mess to me and dad, you're fooling yourself.  No way."

I definitely took my time getting dressed this morning.  Slowly made my bed.  Put away my laundry from the night before.  Prayed - a lot.  Then took the plunge.  I made my way downstairs.

I bumped into my mom in the kitchen.  She was getting her tea out of the microwave and proceeded to walk down the hallway.

"Do you think you're going back upstairs?  Seriously?"
My mom turned around.  "Um....yes?"
I pointed my finger at her.  "YOU are not going ANYWHERE until this child is in my car on the way to school.  Now sit."

The next ten minutes were blissfully peaceful.  She didn't have a problem getting dressed.  It was picture day and she wanted to wear her pink cowgirl boots.  At that point, I don't care if she wanted to wear her Scooby-Doo Halloween costume, I just wanted some clothes on this child.

On our way out, she grabbed her lunch and waved goodbye to Grandma and Grandpa.  They looked like they were in a daze.  I hurriedly pushed Madelyne out the door before my parents said or did anything else to cause chaos.

Once we got in the car, I never for one minute underestimate the power of the diva attitude to come back with a bang.  Sure enough, I might have driven 1/4 of a mile before she spoke.

"You didn't put a drink in my lunch," Madelyne pipes up from the back seat.
"I never put a drink in your lunch," I replied.
I hear the crinkle of the lunch bag.  "Maybe you should think about that next time."
"Madelyne, you get water at school."
"I don't like the water at school.  It has germs."

I rolled my eyes and put on the music.  I'm not ashamed to say I wanted to drown out the little voice from the back seat.  We proceeded to drive to school with the usual back seat driver commands:  "The green is light.  Go."  or "Why are you going to slow?"  or "Turn the heat down."  I kept turning the volume of the radio up and up and up.

Finally we get to school.  Thank the dear Lord, the baby Jesus, Mary Magdalene and all of the apostles who names elude because I never paid attention in my Catholic church classes.  

We walk into school and Madelyne greets the teachers.  When we reach her classroom, I see a dad fixing his son's hair.  (Picture day, remember?)  Madelyne notices too.

"Nice haircut, Evan."  Madelyne walks past him.
Evan notices Madelyne's cowgirl boots.  He turns to his dad.  "I want to wear my cowboy boots!"
"You can wear them when you get home.  You have to wear your nice blue shoes for picture day," Evan's dad tried to explain.  
Madelyne walked over to Evan and gave him a hug.  "It's okay Evan.  I'm sure your Dad will go home and get them for you."
I couldn't even look at Evan's dad.  Evan wailed.  "GO GET MY BOOTS DADDY!"

Madelyne sauntered off probably looking for her next victim.  I booked it out of there before Evan's dad could confront me in the parking lot.  I think his dad started hyperventilating.  I figure he's either going to call his wife as soon as he gets in the car, go home and get the boots or Evan's going to be wearing pink cowgirl boots in his picture courtesy or Madelyne.  You're welcome, Evan's dad.  I hope I never run into you again.

As I walked out the door, the teacher at the front desk, said, "Have a good day."

Oh, my dear, don't you worry.  I will have a blissful quiet day.