Lost [lawst] adj.: no longer in your possession or control; unable to be found or recovered.
Hooman has locked himself in his room. Which is no big deal because he has 30 minutes to simmer down before he has to be in the car on the way to school.
Apparently, I caused this. His Mother. The Queen Bee.*
See, this morning is the 13th anniversary of the wonderful day I had the common sense to marry Mike. And, last night, he was up well past his scheduled bedtime working. Working because there was so much activity this weekend (two football games, a baptism, three parties (two we hosted), and overnight guests) that his regular once/month computer job was very low on his priority list. Until last night.
Being the "nice" wife, I told him to stay in bed this morning. I would do everything** in the morning routine.
I was met at the door, in the dark, by Hooman. He's a regular rooster.*** He was in a cheerful mood, on his way to getting ready. I helped him get his clothes out and proceeded to enter The Babe's room. After talking him down from the "I just woke up and I don't want to lie here because it is so BOORRRRINNNG what can I do?"**** mood he woke up in, I grabbed his clothes and headed down the hall, after I assured him he wouldn't die of boredom.
On to Nickels' room. He was dead asleep. He is, quite possibly, more impossible to wake up than his Daddy, who sleeps just like him. Getting him vertical in the morning is a miracle we have the privilege of witnessing on a daily basis.
So, in my nicest "We can do this the hard way or the easy way" drill sergeant voice, I asked him to get out of bed and head for the shower I was about to turn on. One more set of clothing in hand, I headed to the laundry room to iron.
Ironing complete, next stop was the kitchen. Had to pull together breakfast. That's when I realized neither Mike nor I had taken out the trash bins and the cans in the kitchen were overflowing from the last party of the weekend.
So, I assigned Hooman, now ready for school save his shoes, the task of moving the trash bins from the back of the house to the alley in anticipation of our weekly trash collection.
That is when all Hell broke loose.
You see, it's 52 degrees in Big D today. In Texas speak, that's "FREEZING". Stuff of Artic winters cold. Bone chilling plus some.
And my little champ had managed to mislocate every stinkin' hoodie I've purchased for him in the last fifteen millennium. So, he went out in short sleeves.
Now, this wouldn't have been a problem had big brother not gotten finished in record time and decided he'd go retrieve his hoodie because he was chilly. The hoodie that was hanging seven feet from the back door that Hoooman was pounding on because it auto-locked when he went outside and now he was DYING in the cold.
Did Nickels open the door? NNNOOOO.
Did Hooman lose his marbles because of the injustice? YYEESSSS.
Did I start to scream like a little girl with a sensitive scalp having her hair brushed? Um, YEAH.
Now I had two children, jerk-boy and crying-frigid-lass, who were teed off at each other. And crying-frigid-lass didn't have a hoodie. But, jerk-boy did. And this made Mr. Frigid madder than a wet, cold, egg less hen.
He could NOT let it go.
Meanwhile, I've now realized I haven't packed lunches or started breakfast and I am still in my pj's. And we have 15 minutes before our carpool buddy knocks on the door. And I'm the designated driver.
(Sidenote: if any of this sounds familiar to your house and you are laughing hysterically at me, I'd like to have a little happy hour experience with you...misery loves a drinking buddy.)
I run to the car and find two hoodies. A quick look in the other car reveals two more. But, THE ONE? The school hoodie that can be worn, carte blanche, without question, throughout the school? The only one that he can use in the classroom when he gets cold? Still missing. Magically hasn't reappeared in the three weeks since he, admittedly, left it in one of the classrooms.
This is when I am informed by the Hooman that he has, in fact, NOT lost his $50 school hoodie.
Contrary to the fact that it isn't in either car, in his room, under his bed, in his backpack, in his shoe drawer, in his closet, in any of the lost and found boxes at school, at any neighbor's house, on the rooftop, or in the pool.
(Sidenote, dear readers: Honey, there ain't enough Botox in this world to relax the incredulous crease in the middle of my forehead that this comment caused.)
I calmly inform him that, since we purchased the first hoodie (still MIA) and split the cost of the current "not-lost" hoodie, that this one was on him. Long-term savings would save the day.
And, since we had 45 minutes before school started, I would gladly allow him to move his reading lesson to the afternoon hours and we could go to the school and scour all the lost and found boxes before we went to the school store. Just in case.
OH.MY.GOSH. You'd think I had told him that we were rendering him a eunuch and sending him to work for King Abdullah's wife*****. He went ballistic.
I got the "This isn't fair. It isn't lost." lecture accompanied by the "I'm the unluckiest kid in the world" slanty-eyes.
And, he slammed his door in complete disgust, just to punctuate things, in case, because I'm only 44 years old and I've never been his age, and I JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND, that he was pissed.
I eventually got a pretty shallow apology. And I could tell he'd been crying. So, I pretty much felt the need not to badger him anymore.
But that dang hoodie? Is still MIA. And "un-lost". And it is still a wee bit chilly outside. So, I pulled out the "grace" card and offered to split the cost 75/25 (him/me). Still no dice.
So, I sent my kid in a "non-uniform-take-it-off-at-the-door" hoodie today. I hope, if he is dying of hypothermia in his class later today, that he'll reconsider my generous offer. Or that someone will offer to loan him theirs. Or that, magically, his hoodie will peel itself out of the woodwork and fall into his lap.
Truthfully? I'm counting on defrosting him this afternoon.
*Which he would, no doubt, like to define with a "B" and a few choice vowels/consonants.
**Kind of like when he travels. Except, when he's away from Dallas, I don't wait until the morning to accomplish everything.
***If he could learn how to imitate the bird, he'd have a gig for himself.
****I'm thinking: "It's called "relaxing", honey. Try to lie there and not think about anything. Enjoy this time. When you are old, like me, you'll be up before the sun wondering what happened to your lounging time."
*****She is a STUNNING woman, in case you didn't know.