I am such a good Mom.
He was over the moon during and after his class. He immediately ran out to tell me that he learned to "fly" and "flip through the air."
I immediately signed him up for a weekly 45 minute session of joy, and apparently to develop and broaden his ability to lie. Hooray!
Since the trail class we attended conflicted with my body sculpting class, which is currently the only regular physical exercise I am getting and I am not willing to give it up, I decided to put him in the 4:30 pm Monday class. Sounds reasonable enough, right? Not too late in the afternoon, not interrupting nap schedules or school pick ups, etc.
Again, I am such a good Mom.
Cole had been asking all day today about his class. He actually asked to skip school and go straight to gymnastics...which doesn't really make sense and actually makes me feel like we should discuss the concept of time more often, but fantastic that he's so excited about his new class.
Our afternoon was going well and then we all went outside to meet Aiden at the bus stop and sweat in the triple digit heat that is NEVER GOING TO LEAVE AND FILLS ME WITH RAGE. Once Aiden got off the bus there was a scuttle of playful activity with the neighborhood kids and somehow Cole's bike escaped from our garage, according to him the lawn mower pushed it out. Of course.
(Seriously, the lying methods they taught in that trial gymnastics class are really effective.)
I calmly informed Cole that he needed to bring his bike up to the garage and come inside with his siblings and myself. I also might have told him that I was not going to be able to help him because I was melting, but I would asisst later, like once the sun went away forever.
He freaked. Full blown freaked.
He staggered inside, a sweaty ball of cries and shouts of hatred toward me.
Who's ready for gymnastics?!?!?!
I sent him to his room and after about 15 minutes of tears I heard nothing.
I knew immediately that he had fallen asleep....a mere 30 minutes prior to when we needed to leave for the glorious gymnastics class.
I spend a good portion of my life trying to get Cole to rest. I have conjured up elaborate strategies, searched for perfect lullabies, orchestrated lighting schemes, thrown away perfectly good pajamas that I feel are tainted, and yes, even drugged him to induce sleep. He hasn't napped since he was 2.
His sleep is a thorn in my side.
Waking him up goes against everything I have worked for the last two years. Waking him up is difficult. He is cranky, he cries, he is incapable of speaking, he often pees his pants. I really dislike this process.
So why the hell does he fall asleep as soon as I am going to have to get him and his siblings in a car to go to a class?
Because I'm such a good Mom?
I just wanted to run with that theme because it works for me and my fragile self esteem.
My strategy, (which let me say that any time I have to have a formal strategy to get my kids in the car...it is probably not going to go well,) was to get Aiden and Stella in the car first. This part of the plan did actually work.
Unfortunately I didn't think about how long it would take to wake Cole up. He was a sweaty mess, still. I threw him on the potty and ripped his shirt off. Not. A. Good. Move.
Apparently he had carefully selected his red shorts and red corvette shirt to wear to the beloved gymnastics class. Once it was off though there was no turning back. I had a plan.
I quickly put a Superman t-shirt on him, forced him into some clean shorts and carried him, while he still screamed, to the car. I had brilliantly thought of grabbing a pack of Smarties for him to eat in the car to wake him up a bit and get him distracted enough to stop crying. It seemed brilliant.
I could only find one pack though so I immediately told Aiden that he should not worry about the candy Cole had, I would make it right with him once we were at the gymnastics class.
Aiden and Stella had already been sitting in a hot car for 10 minutes, (doors open Mom, in the shade,) so they were non to pleased about anything at this point. Both of them were actually pretty peeved at the entire idea of Cole's gymnastics class forcing them to leave the house, especially wihtout their own bribe.
Aiden immediately started crying, because he's really good at patience, having faith that things will work out, and dealing with candy consumption in a healthy manner. Score!
Cole had calmed down and was quietly eating one smartie at a time, touching each one to the tip of his tongue before sliding it into his mouth. This type of weird eating style would have been fine, though slightly gross and disturbing, except that Cole sits next to Stella, and with her facing backwards she had full view of the sugar seduction. It was brutal.
Stella likes sugar...despite the fact that she hasn't ever tried most of the candy presented in front of her, she ALWAYS knows what she would like to have. She has sugar smelling talents, perhaps this is a skill I could profit from later?
Stella's screaming begins.
Right about this time, Cole isn't able to untwist the smarties roll anymore. Somehow the twisted plastic wrapped around the small roll of candy is simply beyond is fine motor skills, which I am afraid they won't work on at all in this freakin' gymnastics class, and he FREAKS.
I have a firm rule that my children of speaking age must ask, using words, if they need help rather than crying. I knew immediately what was wrong with Cole and could have ended the entire ordeal for him by reaching back and untwisting the smarties pack...but then what kind of a good Mother would I be?
Cole's screams ignite new fire in Stella's disappointment over her lack of candy and Aiden takes his whining to a whole new level by covering his ears and screaming, "you never should have given Cole candy Mommy!!!! Why did you give Cole candy?!?!? That was a bad decision!!!"
Which really helped me reflect on my pareting choices.
Aiden's face when he freaks out like this is actually hilarious. Cole and Stella aren't very fun when they are throwing fits, but Aiden is just so serious and he always has some sort of crazy phrase that he keeps repeating which makes him sound more nuts than sad. He's good times.
So I started laughing.
Also something that makes Aiden freak out? Laughing at his very real pain.
I do realize that laughing at your five year old for crying is sort of mean, but come on, if there was a video of him, Ellen would probably play it on her show.
By the time we pulled into the parking lot 5 minutes later my children were beside themselves with the pain of the smarties. I removed everyone from the car, took the candy from Cole's tormented, clenched fist and threw it in the trash, and informed everyone that I had just paid 130 freakin' dollars for this class and if anyone made it anything less than wonderful for Cole or he crapped out in the corner, crying about candy instead of learning to flip and lie, I would punch them all in the stomach and never, ever let them see candy again.
(I would also repeatedly write sentences that abuse the function of the comma from now until the end of time. They were terrified.)
And that is how Cole learned how to flip around on the parallel bar and Stella and Aiden smiled while eating dried bananas and drinking water.
I'm such a good Mom.