The Hanger is Real

Ask anyone who knows me & they will tell you I am not a pleasant person when I’m hungry. Unfortunately, it’s a trait I have passed on to Bear. He’s even more of a bear when he’s hungry. Since he was four or five, he has known & been able to use the word hangry properly in a sentence. It’s funny, except when it’s not.

I got the boys from M this morning & everything was going decently well. They were respectfully quiet because J & BK were still sleeping. They were super excited to tell me about what they did the past weekend. They saved up some money & bought new Nintendo cards because they wanted to get new games for their switches. M asked me last night if I was able to give them permission [all hail Nintendo’s parental controls; they are an absolute god send] to do so, but I was busy at work, so it had to wait until this morning.

We have this rule in our house. It’s something I saw on Pinterest so I can’t take credit for it, but the kids each have a chore list. They also have a list that they have to accomplish together & after everything on their lists are done, they can have electronics as long as they’d like, or until the parental controls turn their devices off. It’s something that has worked for two summers & their lists include spending time outside & doing something creative, so please don’t @ me about my kids’ screen time.

After BK woke up this morning, the kids immediately wanted to get on their electronics. The first question is always, “Are your chores done?” If they’re not done, they don’t get electronics. It’s really quite simple. Spoiler alert: this morning, their lists were not done. Butter & BK immediately jumped on what they had to do. Bear had a bit of a meltdown. When I asked him what was wrong, he said he had two things on his personal list & the entire joint list to do. [He did not have the entire joint list to do, he had one thing to do.] He was laying on his bed pouting.

It took me 0.000562 seconds to figure out what was wrong, but I still asked him if he’d eaten breakfast.

Of course he hadn’t.

He had some fruit, he had a waffle, & he was like a brand. new. kid. I [absolutely, 1000% jokingly] told the other two kids, “When Bear gets like this, feed him.” All you have to do is throw a snack or a string cheese at him & I promise he’ll start to feel better. J kind of rolled his eyes at me when I said that. I just stared at him pointedly & asked him what he does first when I’m cranky.

“I feed you.”

The apple did not fall far from this tree. Sorry, Bear.

“Excuse me . . . What?!”

A week or so before Christmas, Butter’s Grandmom asked if she could keep him one Sunday night because they had a project to work on. I didn’t mind at all, and settled in for a night of solo time with the Bear.

Around 4 p.m., it became glaringly evident to me that unless we went out, I was going to end up feeding Bear & ignoring feeding myself. Hey, it happens. Right?

M started a new job a while back, and I’d only been in once to visit him. He kept mentioning to me that I should bring the kids by one night, perhaps with his parents, but I figured that night I could wrangle one child & eating at the same time. Once Bear got up from his nap, we headed out to Pop’s restaurant for dinner.

It was nice.

I got to meet several of M’s coworkers, including a fellow Steelers fan. I met his Boss. I’d met other bosses the time I went by myself, but this was the Boss with a capital B. He’s a really cool guy. A table one section over from M’s asked if I was a celebrity because people kept coming over to visit me. After I thought about it, it may also have been because we were seated at a table which could easily for 6-8 people.

And then this happened.

M pointed us out to one of his fellow servers who is from England. He’d told me all about this guy before, so I wasn’t surprised when I met him. I was kind of shocked when he said to the girls, “This is M’s missus.” Only he’s British & it was loud in the restaurant, so I thought he introduced me as M’s mistress.

If you could have seen my face that night . . .

Needless to say, I’m mortified about hearing him say the wrong thing, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to show my face to him again.