The Strudel War

Normally I am the parent in the trenches in the morning. I wake to my second alarm (Ok, sometimes the third). I get my toddler off of my chest and move him to the half-awake, whining position next to my snoring husband and I roll out of bed followed by the shrieking cry of the said toddler who plops out of the bed to follow me into the bathroom (still crying that I would dare to leave him alone in the big warm bed with my male counterpart or, more so, that I would remove my body from within his grasp). He then usually attempts to climb onto my lap while I am trying to perform one of the sanctities of life in as much privacy as I can muster in my home of little ones.
I then usually perform my morning duties as efficiently as possible for someone who has not yet been allowed to have the small swallows of caffeine take their necessary effect. I hastily get my 7-year old to put down his beloved tablet long enough to get his feet in a pair of pants and his t-shirt changed while attempting to convince him that food in his belly would be a good idea before he leaves the house. Meanwhile, I keep thinking, in the back of my mind, about my 5-year-old who sleeps like the dead until awoken and then he is likened to a giant grizzly whom you have awoken from deep hibernation. Some days it is easier to get him dressed while he sleeps and approach the whole "getting up" part as gently as humanly possible. I usually tackle the toddler between the bigger boys as he is generally a simple task of tackling to the ground, swapping pajamas and a diaper for clothing and a pull-up. But there is the added thought whether I care if he gets breakfast on his clothing or whether I should feed him before attempting the dressing task. See, the toddler does not care how messy he gets while he eats. He is my one child that actually thinks it is hilarious to get food in his hair and to fill his tray with utter disarray at the table. The other boys are much more concerned about "messy" food.
I then somehow manage to get the troop out the door and buckled in the car. Normally we remember all book bags, shoes and jackets. I get to the drop off line at the elementary school and there I get reminded about the library book that was due back, or the fact that critic who calls up "You didn't remind me to get my snack for today" as if it was my only job that morning (Or my job at all for that matter). I am just mentally preparing for the next battle I am about to have. I pull up in line and and tell the boys to undo seat belts and gather their belongings to prepare to jump as it becomes my turn. I mean isn't the drop-off line all about efficiency and you need to teach your children at a young age to "duck and roll" as you slow down. My boys seem to not grasp the concept of speed. And my 5-year-old does not grasp the concept of going to school! So I throw the car in park as it is my turn and I open my door, running to the side they are on and I have to unbuckle the 5-year-old who then grabs a death grip onto his booster seat. So I tell him he will have a great day and paste a smile on my face and try to remember to hug and kiss the 7-year old as he squeezes past this charade. I pry off the 5-year-olds hands and he clings to me. I tell him to give me a big hug and a high-five and run inside. Normally this works like a charm and he magically switches modes and is back to his sweet self. Not to mention the bribe I have with him that when he goes into school well in the drop-off line all week I will walk him in on Wednesdays. He loves it when I walk him in. So normally we end on a good note. And before you ask why I don't just park and walk them in... Parents are encouraged to use the drop-off line to teach the kids the ropes as kindergarteners. Our school also does not have huge lines so it is normally okay that I get out to get them out as I am not holding anyone up behind me on most mornings. And I do not want to give into my child just because that is what he wants me to do. I do not have the time or ability to park and get out and walk him to the door every day of the week, nor do I want him in that habit that we will only have to break as some point.

Fast-forward to the fateful morning. Half joking I asked my darling husband if I could have the morning off. It is my late work day. My sweet husband said "Sure. I will get them to school." I was too tired to run through the game plan and war strategies with him so I just rolled over and thought "This will be fun." Hubby's alarm went off after mine had. I woke him up and reminded him that if the boys were going to eat breakfast in time to get to school he needed to begin NOW. Breakfast is the biggest time consumer in the morning. I mean we have boys so getting ready is like a 5 minute tops (per boy) especially when they have buzz cuts. But getting them to consume a small bowl of chocolate sugary cereal or a bowl of mush is like pulling teeth. So this is where I hear my husband make his first error of the morning. He offers the 7-year-old toaster strudels for breakfast ON A SCHOOL MORNING! Now, I am sure many are thinking "no big deal"... but it is a HUGE deal. The Strudel war was about to begin. I wanted to try to stay out of it. I wanted to ignore it and stay in the comfy bed. I tried to, until I realized the toddler needed to go potty and darling hubby was busy looking for clothing that actually matched for the children to wear (bless his heart). So I put the toddler on the potty and listened to him whine that he didn't want to go and so I let him down only to be met with a chorus of "I need go potty!" so I put him back on. Once the potty ordeal ended I wandered out after my half naked toddler into the kitchen in a half-hearted attempt to put a new pull-up on him. What I saw gave me pause and I silently sucked in my breath. I saw that my 7-year-old had managed to talk his dad into giving him two strudels. My toddler noticed this as well and said in his tired morning voice "I ont un oo!" I told him he could have some breakfast after he got his clothes on hoping to avoid my involvement in the ensuing war.
Meanwhile, the 5-year-old was awoken and came out, seeing the stroodle half eaten by his big brother he said, "I want one." to which my man pulled out the last and final strudel to heat up. So not only did hubby offer strudels to the boys for breakfast (mistake) he also managed to run out of them before they all received the equal and "fair" amount. So the 5-year-old began to get upset that there were not 2 for him but I reminded him that he gets one or none and that stopped that. The poor toddler was left to have no strudel which did not sit well with him. The next fatal mistake occurred when my 5-year-old began to sit down to his strudel and hubby was standing there with the icing packet...the CHOCOLATE icing packet. My 5-year-old likes toaster strudels but only with white icing. So he said "I wanted white!" Hubby explained that he put the last of the white icing on the 7-year-old's stroodle (The 7-year-old will eat any icing actually preferring chocolate to white by-the-way. Oh the things you learn through in-combat training for the Strudel wars). So 5-year-old settled for chocolate but he wanted to put it on (HE ALWAYS puts it on). Hubby already had it squeezed out before the child got the words out and it was done. My 5-year-old likes strudel (he really does) but he does not like to get his fingers messy which is why he likes to put the icing on. Only half a packet and only in the center of the rectangle pastry thus avoiding his fingers touching the icing gooeyness. My darling husband is normally sleeping during my bout of Stroodle war and has no idea how much these details matter to getting the day off to a good start. This is why strudel is not a breakfast item offered on school days by this momma.
The melt down began and ended with some yelling and growling by the kindergarten bear of a boy and he was presented with the option of eating the finger-licking-gooey-strudel or passing and presenting said strudel to his baby brother who was eyeing it with green envy as he ate his plain old bowl of cereal. The war ended finally when the child chose to eat the strudel as long as I presented him with a fork of peace and cut the strudel into bite-sized pieces thus avoiding all chance of the gooey-sticky-finger issue.
The ground was still rocky as shoes and backpacks had to get put on and boys had to be scooted out the door. However, my husband made it out alive and returned to the home a victorious warrior in the morning battle. He even returned home baring gifts of doughnuts for his bride which are so much better then strudel anyway.
I laughed a little laugh and told him "My mornings are a little stressful aren't they?"