The Bitterness of Disappointment

Last night after the offspring were in the mode that I appreciate them best and all their really great aspects come out in the fullest glory- namely, when they are sleeping- I was making the rounds inspecting rooms, were towels properly hung, chores properly executed, etc. As I progressed through the house, my frustration mounted. In fact, my frustration mounted to the extent that I was almost ready to rip the sleeping perpetuators from their beds and have them re-do the assignments. But upon further reflection, after a highly frustrating day, I decided that this was not in the best interests of any of us. So I left them to their sweet slumber.

This morning I was moving around the kitchen rapidly bringing breakfast together, grinding coffee beans, filling the water filter, pouring orange juice, and reflecting. Pancakes was on the menu. The children were in joyful anticipation of pancakes. I had a small saucepan full of simmering water on a burner awaiting the right moment for a few eggs to be lowered in for exactly 4 minutes 35 seconds (they are at their perfect peak of soft boiled-ness)--these for Jon when I thought of something. I could save myself a heap of trouble and offer a valuable lesson if I just filled the saucepan and made everyone soft boiled eggs for breakfast.

I filled the pot, set the timer, hastily gathered egg cups and set them around the dining room table, and loaded the toaster oven with english muffins. Gabriel and Oliver emerged first and I turned to find them right behind me breathing in the air a bit worried and wondering why the cast iron griddles were not perched atop the stove.

"Mom, I thought we were having pancakes?" Oliver said his concern mounting.

"Yes, we were going to have pancakes. But I changed the menu and now you are having soft boiled eggs and toast."

Crestfallen does not do justice to the sorrowful feelings that welled up in Oliver. He reflected on this somberly and Gabriel immediately went into the thumb sucking fetal position, which I routed him out of and forcefully pushed him in the emotional direction of something a bit more manly for a nearly 6 year old boy.

Oliver looked at me feeling betrayed. "Mom, why no pancakes?" Ah, yes, this was the little instructional moment I was waiting for.

"That feels pretty bad doesn't it, when someone tells you they are going to do something and they don't, or they claim to have done something and they haven't? Makes you kinda mad, doesn't it?" I asked.

Oliver nodded waiting for the explanation. "Yesterday all of you children told me and lead me to believe that you had done your chores, properly gathered your music books for lessons, properly checked off your practice charts, hung towels, cleaned rooms, and all else, and what did I continue to discover all day long and into the night?" There was a long pregnant pause, but Oliver finally mumbled out the words with the look on his face that said - BUSTED- "We didn't do any of it."

I looked at him gravely and said," Then feel the disappointment of this moment and today when mom asks if you've completed your chores and properly practiced remember that when you claim something that isn't true, I'm very disappointed and frustrated just as you are in this moment."

Oliver sorrowfully left the kitchen considering that.

Within 15 minutes everyone was gathered around the table. The news had spread, and the crestfallen half dozen surveyed brown soft boiled eggs perched on white porcelain egg cups and a small plate stacked high with toast. I rather enjoyed the moment but not for long, because within a short period of time everyone was happily finishing off their eggs, asking for seconds and saying," This is really great, mom."

Jon got up from the table to head to work and paused to whisper, "Might I suggest, my love, that you make cornmeal mush for breakfast next time you wish to disappoint the children."

Yeah, so much for my little lesson. :-)