It’s the first day of Spring Break and I already feel like I am in purgatory. We got dumped on today which makes me happy for the water table but sad for my sorry ass. Already my kids are driving me crazy and I don’t even have one down, with nine to go.
The dog and the kids woke up bright and early with tons of energy and little outlet. I bit the bullet and suited everyone up (amidst howls of discontent) and we walked to a nearby park. The first thing Testy did was take off his goggles (he wanted to wear them) and filedl them with snow. Okay, so now they are useless. Then he and Scrote thought it would be great to reach into the watery gutters to make slush balls. Now their gloves are useless. Come on … really?
It took every . single . bit . of . self . restraint . to not scream, “What the hell? Are you an idiot?!” But I didn’t. You can give me my Mother of the Year Award now.
And people ask me when I’m going to get my kids skiing. My kids will start skiing when we have the kind of disposable income that makes taking up one of the most expensive/elitist sports possible (maybe they’ll golf in the summer, or Formula One racing, why not?) But really, we will take it up when they aren’t so stupid as to sabotage their gear within seconds of going outside.
Where did they get these impulses from? Certainly not from me, I faced sudden death if I pulled something as bone headed as that. Or more likely, I had to suffer the frozen and foggy gear for the entire day and probably never did it again.
Why is it so difficult to be a hard ass? The easy solution to getting kids to stop doing stupid shit is to let them suffer the consequences. My kids suffered some consequences today, that’s for sure, but as I watched them play in the park I felt like I had to chose. Do I want them to like me or to grow up to be self-suffient adults? I don’t think they like me very much right now.
I went all Alec Baldwin on Testy yesterday. He’s been hanging out with some whiney kids (yay kindergarten) and he’s trying the strategy on for size. He had a jumbo snack while I dragged him around on errands and we were heading home, where I was going to cook dinner. Immediately.
But no, he had to whine and pule while we were driving home.
“I’m hungry!” (in the most nasal, annoying voice you can imagine)
“You just had a huge snack, you won’t die in the next half hour.”
“But I’m hungry!”
“I get it, you’re hungry. That’s great, you can eat an extra big dinner when we get home.”
“BUT I’M HUNGRY!”
I HEARD YOU! YOU ARE HUNGRY! I GOT IT! DO YOU THINK REPEATING THE SAME THING OVER AND OVER IS GOING TO CHANGE THE FACT THAT WE ARE IN A CAR? WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO ABOUT IT WHILE I AM DRIVING?! IF YOU THINK THAT WHINING IS GOING TO MAKE A SNACK MAGICALLY APPEAR RIGHT NOW THEN YOU ARE GOING TO BE VERY DISAPPOINTED. IT’S NOT GOING TO GET YOU ANYWHERE BUT IN A LOAD OF TROUBLE WITH ME! DO YOU KNOW WHAT WHINING WILL GET YOU? IT WILL GET YOU ON MY BAD SIDE AND LET ME TELL YOU, YOU DON’T WANT TO GO THERE!!!!
So much for me being the grownup.
Testy could easily substitute “whining” with “yelling” and be all, “Back at ya, Mom.”
Time to cut the crap.
I can’t believe that after purging over 3000 items I am still finding bags of bags tucked away. What the fuck? TRASH.
Little sun hats the boys used to wear. DONATE.
Irish linen. Some not even used. I love the idea of these lovely table linens but I can’t imagine I’ll ever have the time to wash and iron them. Since I don’t see myself taking on any “domestics” anytime soon, DONATE.
Swim trunks that didn’t get rinsed out and now the elastic is blown. TRASH.
Why did I buy bras at Costco? Why?! Plus, I detest underwires. DONATE.