It was a fairly average day at work...but of course, my definition of "average" is different than most. In other words, no one kicked, hit, bit or spit on me. In my world, this equates a good day. We had some pretty zooey and ill behaved children, but as I travel between two schools, I managed to conviently be in the wrong (or right, depending on how you look at it...) building as the kids were acting their worst.
So, thinking I was pretty lucky, I packed up my belongings and headed home for the day, thinking I had dodged all the major bullets and it was all downhill from there.
***Cue horror movie "don't go in that room, you idiot!!" music here.***
I arrive to my afternoon charges, pick them up from school and before the car door even opens, I can hear that the bickering has begun. Nothing says "Hi I'm happy to see you and thanks for picking us up" like a backseat brawl over which member of One Direction is actually singing at that particular part of the song. We arrive home, get kids to their various activities and make it through dinner relatively unscathed. And then the homework comes out...
**horror music gets louder..."no, really, don't go in there!!"**
At Aidan's request, I sit with him at the table and edit the rough draft of his social studies paper. His teacher has given him a list of questions that he is supposed to answer in a comprehensive paragraph. I make some minor grammatical edits and go through the checklist of things he was supposed to include and mention that he forgot to answer one question. You would have thought I told him he could never eat dessert again in his life. He began arguing and fighting and banging his head on the table and I chose that moment to walk away, as it was pretty clear my help was no longer welcome or needed, and I turned to put something back in the fridge and as I'm turning my back, out of the corner of my eye, I see a fist raised with a middle finger protuding from it...One can imagine my explosion as I packed up his backpack and told him for his own safety, he'd be spending the rest of the evening in his bedroom. I filled his mom in on the incident, as she had missed it as she was preparing to leave for a meeting...so she marches up to his room, reads him the riot act about disrespect and he begins to lose his mind because he's lost TV for the rest of the week. So she comes back downstairs to leave for her meeting, apologizing that she's leaving me with him up there losing his mind...I assure her I've got it and I would text her if anything changes. She leaves. I send the other two kids to the basement to play, give him a chance to regroup and go upstairs to see if we can sign a peace treaty.
As I'm standing in the hall outside his room, I feel the house give a violent shake. At first, I am certain I am just imagining things. Or about to faint. Either one. Then Aidan starts screaming, "What was that? WHHHHAAAATTT WAAAAASSSS THHHHAAAAATTTT?!?!?! What's happening? Allison! ALLISON!!!"
Being the girl from Wyoming where the wind blows at hurricane strength almost every day, I immediately assume a big gust of wind has hit the house. I assure him it's the wind and go downstairs and open the front door. Instead of the gust of wind I was expecting to hit me in the face, I'm met with an eerie stillness. No wind. Not even a teensy breeze. Then it hits me. They've been doing work on the house all week, including on the gas lines. I race to the basement door, heart pounding, half afraid of what I am going to find the basement. I scream down to Brendan and Maeve, who are like, "Lady, we are playing knee hockey down here, stop your screaming." No gas explosion. What the hell? At this moment, Kristen texts from her meeting to check on Aidan. I text back that he's fine, but her house is doing some violent shaking. She texts back, "What do you mean the house is shaking?" Then she calls and having the same gas explosion thoughts I had, tells me to immediately get the kids out of the house. I hang up and begin the evacuation. Except we've never had an evacuation drill at home, so it goes something like this:
Me: Bren and Maeve, come upstairs. Now. Aidan, come downstairs. Put on shoes and sweatshirts, we need to leave.
Maeve: Where are we going?
Me: I don't know.
Bren: Why are we leaving if you don't know where we're going?
Maeve: I don't want to leave. I hate going in the car.
Aidan: Does this mean I'm not in trouble anymore?
Me: No. And where's your shirt?
Aidan: I need a shirt?
Me: Did you hear me say we're leaving? And it's 40 degrees outside?
Aidan: Oh. I'll be right back.
Me: Hurry, please.
Bren: Should I bring my iPad?
Maeve: I can't find my other croc.
Me: I don't care. Put on any shoes, but do it quickly.
Maeve: Why are we leaving?
Me: Because the house shook.
Bren: What? The house shook?
I'm trying not to panic because at this point, I am certain that the house is about to blow and I'm trying not to panic them because they don't do panic well...and I finally get them outside where I can finally feel like I might be able to breathe again, and Kristen calls back, and I answer hoping she has an evacuation route for me, and she says, don't worry, it was an earthquake. 4.5.
An earthquake? We don't have earthquakes in Massachusetts! But apparently they do in Maine. So I march the kids back into the house, reasonably sure that we're not going to get blown up, at least for the night...I send Aidan back upstairs and tell Maeve she needs to do her nightly 20 minutes of reading.
Maeve: I'm NOT doing it.
Me: Yes you are.
Maeve: I'm NOT reading.
Me: Yes you are.
(this repeats like five times.)
I then come to my senses and decide that having a "yes you are" "no I'm not" battle with a tired 9 year old is going absolutely nowhere, put on my "make a good choice school social worker hat" and say: "Ok, that's fine. You don't have to read. But I am going to write an email to your teacher letting her know you chose not to do your homework, even though you had time and no excuse not to, and ask that you be kept in from recess to do it then."
Massive tantrum #2 erupts.
Maeve: NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Don't email my teacher!!!
Me: If you make the choice to go do your reading, I won't.
Maeve: I'm NOT READING!
Me: Then I am emailing your teacher.
Maeve: NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
She goes up to her room where she continues to lose her mind, I let it go for a few minutes and then go up there to let her know that if she doesn't start her reading in two minutes, she will not be allowed to read tonight and I'll be emailing her teacher. I tell her I'll be back in two minutes to see what she decides to do.
I return to her room after two minutes and ask for her decision.
Maeve: "I'm going to read. But do you want to know what I think of you? I'll show you what I texted mom!"
(Apparently, you can text from ipods with a texting app. Who knew?! I can only imagine now that poor Kristen is in her meeting getting peppered with texts from her angry 9 year old and is probably never coming home, ever again.)
She thrusts her ipod at me, and this is what I see:
She's very indignant, with her best, "Ha! I told on you" face and it's so cute and she's so sure that she's won the battle that I just start to laugh. Because really, what else can you do in these kinds of situations?
When your life is a sitcom, your sense of humor is your best defense.
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