Definition of Grumpy
Grump´y
1.
Surly;
dissatisfied;
grouty.
Related Words
bad-tempered,
crabbed,
crabby,
cross,
fussy,
grouchy,
ill-natured,
ill-temperedI wake up this morning, trying desperately to wipe the sleep from my eyes, knowing that I will never win the fight against my good intentions and my will to follow through. Then I hear a familiar sound, one I have come so accustomed to, it seems as normal and regular as my own heartbeat...it starts with a *sniffle, sniffle* then gradually grows into *uuhhh-uhhhh-hm-hm-hm-waaah-ewwww-ahhhhhh-hmmmmm* then *sniffle, sniffle* cough...splutter, splutter....cough.....gag. I roll over to the edge of my bed, open one eye wearily and meet eyes with Anna as she lets out another lovely "WHINE"! I close my eyes hoping it is just a dream but my experiences each morning for the past...how many??...months tell me it is not. *SIGH*
"Hi Anna." I reply with my croaky sore throat. "Why are you up so early?"
She replies is her ever constant whiny voice that accompanies her each morning, "Mooooommmmmeeeee....I wanna watch tartooooooonsssssss!"
I groan and pull myself out of bed as Anna patters down the hall and jumps onto the couch. Seconds later I appear from the hall as Anna quickly reminds me, as she does EVERY morning, "Mommmmeeeee, I sirsseeee....I need a dwink!"
"I know!" I reply as the grumpy-ness settles in like an old friend.
I start rummaging through the kitchen, noticing the crumbs on the table I still need to wipe up and the left-over dinner I forgot to put away....oh well, who really likes left-over pizza the next day anyway?
Then I hear the ever-present whine again, "Mommmmmmmeeeee, I said I need a dwink!! I sirssee!"
Do I have to remind myself how little patience a three-year-old has? In the morning, it is quite hard to remember! I try, with a great amount of control, to calmly explain to Anna to have patience to wait, and to remember to use her manners.
"Pwwweeease tan I have a dwink pwease?"
We decide on a drink, always debating that she must choose a HEALTHY option that does not include Powerade, which has too much sugar and is bad for her teeth. Anna finally opts for orange juice, and I hand it over to her, turn the television to Disney, and grumble myself back down the hall. As I enter my room, the smell of all night bad breath hits me, and I gasp, cover my mouth, and jump back in bed before I change my mind! I take a minute to snuggle up to Russ and try and get warm, because our apartment is always so cold in the mornings, when I hear another sound. *Ahhhh...grumble-de-grumble-grumble* Russ so kindly informs me that Carter is awake. With a lesser amount of control in my voice, I not so calmly reply, "I know!" Why cannot my children sleep in? I curse the rising sun and crawl back out of the warmth of my bed to get Carter.
I open Carter's door, as he eagerly runs out and down the hall, dragging his blanket between his legs. The sight makes me smile....until I smell the trapped-in stench of a poopy diaper wafting from Carter's room! I grab the diaper and wipes and chase the kid down, as he tries to avoid my grip.
"Let's change your bum, kid, you're stinky!" as I lay him on the floor and his wails begin! Kicking and arching his back, rolling from side to side, Carter tries everything to get away! It is torture for him to be confined to one spot for more than a few minutes. After the dust settles, I quickly snap the last snap of Carter's onsie as he is already trying to crawl away. He hops up and runs into the kitchen, jabbering and grunting. Hunger is Carter's strongest motivator, it dictates his every mood and move. I try to put on my brave face, knowing what I have to endure through breakfast-time.
"Mooommmmeeee, I hungweeeee!" comes the whine from the little blond on the couch, as Carter starts his whine while he is pulling on the fridge door handle. Then he makes eye contact with the bowl of Sunday treats we use for Anna when she is good in primary and he tries to make his intentions understood with a series of grunts, uh-uh-s, and other incoherent words.
"No Carter, you can't have any candy. Let's have some breakfast!"
I am answered by a wail as he throws himself down onto the floor, then he throws his head back, hits it on the fridge door, and starts kicking the chair in front of him. I ask him to stop and my futile attempt does nothing in my favor. So, I pick up the angry toddler, and carry him to his room, where we let his sit for a few minutes until he calms down. As I come back down the hall I glimpse Russ still soundly asleep in bed and I holler,
"Russ!!! Get up!"
"I'm a coming" he grumbles. I roll my eyes....whatever! Grumpy has now officially become my first name.
Back into the kitchen, I deal with Anna wanting something not healthy or appropriate for breakfast like Doritos or macaroni and cheese. I give her the options as she sighs and gives in and chooses Cheerios, Corn Flakes, or oatmeal. I get her settled, then head back into Carter's room, where I find a much more happy kid, who seems to all but forgotten about the candy. I take him into the kitchen, sit him in his chair, and get him a bowl of cereal too. I try to keep a bib on him, but it is useless because he never keeps it on. As Carter insists on eating himself, I get more annoyed with each bite as he spills all over his jammies, chair, table, and floor. If it wasn't for two toddlers, I wouldn't have to sweep and mop constantly! To validate that complaint, I step on a soggy Cheerio....ooohhhh....major pet peeve of mine!
Then Carter gets tired of his now soggy cereal and sitting still for longer than he desires and starts climbing around on his chair which almost always results in his almost falling off or tipping something over! As I sit him back down, he starts with another fit, crying and kicking, arching his back over the edge of his chair, and trying to hit the nearest object. In my grumpiest voice ever I tell him to stop or he has to go to his room. Does he stop? Maybe in my dreams....but I have already deduced that this is NOT a dream. Carter returns to his room and that finally prompts Russ to get out of bed. He transfers his body from the bed to the couch, changes the channel from Anna's cartoon that she hasn't watched for the last 30 minutes, and can you guess what happens?
"Myyyy tarrrtooon! I wanna watch dat dadddeeee!"
"Anna, if you are going to whine, then go to your room!" She starts crying, cries out for her blankies, grabs them, then goes running to her room in all her drama!
I explain to Anna that it isn't good to watch television all day long, that she can watch a few cartoons and that's it. She accepts, and starts to play in her room, and I come back into the living room with Carter on my hip to find Russ sprawled on the couch watching something completely dumb on the Sci-Fi channel. Totally annoyed, I huff into the kitchen to clean up after breakfast, while demanding that Russ turn the t.v. down. While cleaning up, Carter follows me around grunting and whining for things I cannot figure out, as I reply, exasperated, "Carter....kid....you're driving me crazy!"
Russ replies from the living room, "Man....someone is a little grumpy..."
"Noooo, ya think?" I reply with absolutely no sarcasm in my voice....nope... none!
Then I have to restrain the thought of grabbing the nearest boot, gotta be a heavy one, and throwing it at his head! With that picture in my mind, I actually feel a little happier, and smile to myself. Hmmmm, I love mornings!
*note: reminder to all that this is written for entertainment only, and slight exaggeration is used, though I do admit that I have had many mornings almost exactly like this one...and I do admit to, at times, wanting to throw a heavy boot!
Carter John Meredith at 18 months old.
