No matter your mommy status, getting kids out of the house sucks. You say the same things over and over again, until the sentences don't even make sense anymore. Brush your butt and wipe your teeth! No, you can't wear dirty backpacks! Eat your toothpaste! Stop listening to me, your brother's the boss! I've fallen and I can't get up! Please just let me lie here. Who said you're too young to walk yourself to school? Buses are way overrated. So are sidewalks. Tell the teacher your father told you to do it.
The bus stop. I am birth control for every parent that is unlucky enough to witness the debauchery of the triple threat at the bus stop. The bus stops at the top of our neighborhood, it's a bit of a walk to get there. It never arrives at the scheduled time. It's like waiting for the Verizon guy to show up between noon and five. Every day. Fifteen minutes feels like an eternity. One of the very first days, Grady had a must release urine now emergency. I found the nearest tree. How's that for some early morning entertainment? All my neighbors get to witness the fact that I don't cut my kids' grapes in half and I feed them popcorn for breakfast. In the afternoons, the boys fall asleep ten minutes before we have to leave to meet back up with that monstrous, yellow beast. I thought Lillian would recognize my total unselfishness and undying love for her. So much so that I forgo her brothers' nap time. Instead, she questions my wine intake. "Mom, I saw three wines outside last night. Were you thirsty?" It's not my fault the neighbors are chucking their empty wine bottles over the fence. I think they're mad about the pee emergency. That damn tree was on it's death bed already.
|They may not be wearing underwear...but the important stuff is there.|
I know why kids need to go to school, they require successful teaching moments. My teaching moments aren't turning out quite how the manual said they would. Oh, you didn't get the manual? Don't worry, it sucks. I'm burning mine. A few months ago we started Lillian with a chore chart. She gets stickers for each chore she completes and a quarter for each sticker at the end of the week. She's been saving for a CuddleUppet. It's a blanket, with a puppet head attached. There are various ugly animals to choose from. The CuddleUppet arrived. That day, I asked Lil to do a specific chore. Her response? "I don't want to do chores anymore now that I have my CuddleUppet."
I told Grady he couldn't have chocolate before bed because it wasn't healthy for his body. He called me a dork and stomped off to his room.
At Mass last week, Grady was a hot mess. We told him no trip to Wawa for freezies. I said we could try again next Sunday. His solution? "Let's just not go to church again."
I teach Grady not to stick his fingers in his butt to scratch a mosquito bite, instead he rubs his bitten hiney on the circle time carpet at school. I tell him not to stick his finger in his crack while he's pooping. Instead he grabs his penis. Because according to him, there's no poop on that. And he says he likes his little penis. We'll see how that all turns out in twenty years.
|At least she's cute.|
I'm sure I bribe my children too much. But without bribery, what sort of marketable skill do I really have to offer? Apparently, a couple of old ladies on the trail have been checking out my butt. One told me she thought I had a cute fanny. Sean thought this was weird. I thought it was the best compliment ever. It's a marketable skill. One that probably leads to a
|Unsuccessful teaching moment #5,185. Don't jump on the furniture, mom will be arrested if we show up in the emergency room again.|