Attitudes of gratitude

Work has been really stressful lately, which is usually Mark's cue to kick up at home. Most kids would get out of the way of an insane yelling, screaming mother tearing her hair out, but then again, Mark's not most kids.

Instead of laying low, he pushes my buttons. He debates every word that comes out of my mouth, even the ones like, "Go. TO. BED. NOW!!!!!" He takes that phrase literally, assuming that since I never said to get OUT of bed the following morning, he should just stay there.

"I can't just wake up in one minute!" he yells, when I literally pull him out of bed. He makes this statement after 45 minutes of his clock radio playing music, 35 minutes of me telling him to get up, 15 minutes of the cat nagging him for breakfast, and 27 minutes of him saying, "I'm up," and me arguing that, "Eyes open is not up. Out of bed, dressed and fed is UP."

"Funny," I answer, recalling his 6:45 wake up over the weekend. "You didn't have any trouble Saturday morning!"

I've tried everything, including a squirt bottle, a hyperactive giant kitten, and an obnoxious, pounding alarm clock. I've let him sleep in and miss class, figuring that might put the fear of God (or his music teacher) in him, but he completely missed the point, and thanked me for letting him sleep in (subtlety is not his strong suit).

I no longer care if he gets out of bed on time; I'm actually more concerned that I'm going to stroke out from all the stress.

Yesterday, while Mark was at football practice, I tried walking it off. I'd read somewhere that the happiest people are the ones who practice gratitude. So as I walked the first lap, I thought of all the things I'm grateful for in my life.

I am grateful I don't have more kids.

I am grateful I didn't strangle Mark today.

I am grateful that Mark is a football field away from me.

I am grateful to have a job. (That was as positive as I could be about work.)

I want wine.

That's not gratitude, I reprimanded myself.

OK, I answered. I am grateful for wine. I should have brought some with me on this walk. By the second lap, I'd unclenched my teeth and fists.

I am grateful I'm not at work right now.

I'm grateful for Daylight Savings time.

I'm grateful for beer. I should've brought a beer with me.

Try again, I told myself.

By the third lap, I'd stopped hyperventilating.

I'm grateful for my wonderful family.

I'm grateful for book club.

I'm grateful we drink wine at book club.

There was a definite theme to my gratitude, but I didn't care. As I rounded the fourth lap, I realized the constant dizziness and nausea I've been feeling all week was dissipating. I was grateful for that.

I'd only planned to walk four laps, but it took me six before I started feeling human again. By the time I finished walking, I could actually breathe calmly, appreciate the setting sun, and laugh with one of the other football moms. I was almost back to myself.

On the way home, I flipped the radio to a new station I'd found that plays all acoustic music. It's awesome.

"Do you listen to this station on the drive home from work?" Mark asked.

"No," I said. "I just found it. Why?"

"Well, maybe you should," he said. "Maybe it will make you calm."

"You know what would make me calm?" I asked. "Having a kid that does what I ask! THAT would go a long to making me calm." Suddenly, I could feel my face burning bright red again.

"I shouldn't have said anything," Mark mumbled. Then he made his best decision all week and shut up.

I exhaled, and started all over.

I am grateful for wine, I thought.

I am grateful for beer.

I am grateful that I have 12 beers at home, but only one kid...

Sigh...I see a lot more laps in my future.