Another one down the line
It’s not all first time riding the bike without the training wheels and the first morning with dry pants. Sometimes its a lot of huffing and puffing and complaining. Looking at it with one eye I can see it’s because my kids feel so secure, they feel entitled, they feel like they deserve something better than whatever it is they are getting and when they get something good they always recognize it and say thank you. Yet with the other eye I see them as selfish little bitches who do nothing but bicker and complain and say crappy shit to me.
recently on the way home from a holiday family time our son raised his eyebrow at me ( something I admit I am envious of…) and narrows his eyes saying through gritted teeth something about how rotten we are for stopping for gas and encouraging him to use the restroom as we still had a bout 2 hours or so before we got home but he was tired and trying to sleep and weren’t we telling him to be quiet and go to sleep, sheesh, shuffleshuffle lag lag behind in the parking lot of the GetGo. Still muttering about how terrible it all is I grab his chin and tell him, staring him down with my own version of the evil eye, “If you make that face at me one more time in this life time I will have a hard time resisting the urge to smack it off your face!”
I know, hand me the mother of the year award now. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I don’t hit my kids. It’s just not something we believe in as a family. But oh great and powerful Oz, help a sister out. I can’t stand the constant complaining. Complaining when I haven’t even said no. When I have said yes. While we are doing something fun that they said they wanted to do.
Its maddening. It would be nice if there was a reason for their shitty attitude other than its been 2 hours since they said something in a crappy tone of voice or hit one another because the other one said something to make them mad. Maybe if I were cleverer I would know what to do. Maybe if I was very patient and kind and never yelled they wouldn’t yell at each other. The inner hippie in me wants to just sit down in a circle and talk about how we feel. The inner hipster in me wants to steer them toward some type of craft that would allow an outlet for their feelings to come out. The inner drug addict me just wants a cocktail and something else mind altering.
Luckily for the kids the inner lazy-assed punk just figures they will work it out and insist on a couple of rules to get us to that point.
1. Don’t hit your brother in the balls anymore. Yes, you win right away because he is trying not to throw up and cry. But don’t do it.
2. Don’t choke your sister. She has asthma and it really freaks her out and then she tells on you and you get in trouble even though you are only choking her because she kicked you in the balls.
3. Stop sassing me and your father. Don’t use that tone of voice.
4. Stop whining.
5. Don’t hit each other or wrestle in the car. No shouting in the car.
My list appears reasonable when I write it all out, but it may as well be a list of fetching me diamonds, clean the house everyday and stop having to be reminded to brush your teeth.
Expectations are not quiet aligned with reality sounds like a bad fortune cookie or horoscope but that is fate of all parents. Its like pants that are just a bit too tight to be zipped up properly but you wore them out anyway.
You have to suck it up and stay that way.