Answer: I make choices based on what I want not what is best. I make you come into work earlier each week and work overtime on weekends. I don’t listen to what you have to say. I don’t pay you for anything. You rarely receive appreciation from me and when you do, it’s because I want something from you. I make you wipe my butt and walk behind me to clean up my messes.
Who is your ex husband? Who are YOUR CHILDREN?
I had a scary, awful realization this weekend. I work for my kids. I mean, they run this crazy a*# circus freak show and I’m just the stupid carnie hauling all their stupid crap from show to show. All this time, I kind of thought I was in charge. (Pause for uncontrollable laughter) Come to find out, they were just making me think I was in control by randomly following my instructions and a few yes maam’s here and there…It was all an act, part of a bigger scheme to take over my sanity completely and run me into total submission. They grant me a few solid days complete with good attitudes, kindness towards one another, flexibility with the dinner menu, yes maam, no maam, thank you, no thank you, please, etc… But all of that is a tactic to weaken my defenses and catch me off guard for the ADHD Dennis the Menace type behavior that is about to spout from their little bodies at 6am on a Sunday.
For the love of all things sacred I do not understand the chemical imbalance my children suffer from. Monday-Friday I’m banging spoons on pots and ringing bells to pry their motionless bodies from their beds to get ready for school. To add insult to injury it was like pulling teeth from a rabid polar bear to get them to go to bed the previous night. It’s a battle to lay them down; it’s a battle waking them up…EXCEPT.ON.THE.WEEKENDS. GAH!
Weekends used to be the time to recover from a week’s worth of office politics, errands, stupid customers, annoying co-workers and the source of total rejuvenation. How am I supposed to recover from my week of commission based work when these children wake up so dadgum early? At first I thought it’s just one of those things. Now I realize that it isn’t by happenstance. It’s just a small part of their devilish plan to rob me of my tranquility, poise and self control. I do not operate kindly at 6am. During the week at least I have a paycheck incentive to fake it…Not.on.the.weekends.
I do everything disgruntled-like until about 12pm when I am able to sleep while baby sleeps.
On Saturday we took our Christmas pictures and both kids did incredibly well. Kylee is a natural diva and can work a camera better than Cindy Crawford or Kim Kardashian. Logan was in a swell mood and smiled for everything. It wasn’t until the little guy working the computer insisted on showing me every different crop and photo shop available. Kylee and Logan sensed that my ability to focus on them was weakened and took it as an opportunity to be completely destructive and annoying. All the sudden that studio felt like 105° and my arm pits were on fire.
We finally made it home and the hope of a pleasant weekend set before us as we snuggled and watched Christmas movies together on the couch. It was all very Bing Crosbyish. It was so legit; I even posted it to my Facebook and apparently jinxed the whole weekend by doing so. I had no idea that in less than 18 hours, our weekend would descend so quickly to the point of me losing my schmidt!
Our Sunday went a little something like this.
10 til 6:00am – Kids friggin wake up
6:05-6:30am – make strawberry milk and oatmeal
6:30-7:15am – Kids see cookies and refuse to eat oatmeal
7:17am – Give kids cookies in exchange for the promise of quiet TV time
7:23am – Cookies gone, promises broken.
8:00-8:45am – I took a shower with 4 interruptions 6 random questions and 2 screams. The concept of privacy is completely extinct.
9:00-9:35am – Prayer…lots.of.prayer
9:45-10:15am – Get everyone dressed for church.
10:20: Leave for church
After church, lunch and naps the kids were refreshed and repowered with more undomesticated energy and I was…not.
The weather was cold and rainy and as a result kept us cooped up and on top of one another all day. I assume the kids were going stir crazy. That is the only explanation for all the madness. As a last ditch effort to salvage my mental stability we went to my friend’s house for a play date. It sounded like a good idea at the time but we quickly realized that cold, rainy weather makes kids ca-razy! Our visit unintentionally turned my friend’s house into a zoo when all the monkeys are accidentally let out. With our welcome worn out like a pair of granny panties headed home.
As the clock got closer to their bed time I anxiously awaited for that last hour of my really poopy day to sink into my chair with an ancient episode of Sex and the City and a glass of wine.