Saturday, August 07, 2010
"Why some animals eat their young"...
...or "NOW I know why the female praying mantis kills her spouse after mating."
It is almost 1 AM, as in "the morning." My day started at 8 AM - yesterday. It was a normal day around our household. That's not always a good thing. There were three girls (Shelby had a friend sleep over) and I here all day. At times I had a few minutes to myself...while the girls played Wii downstairs, when they went outside, while I was in the shower (although I did have to explain why I wasn't in the position to take a phone call while showering...).
The rest of the hours were filled with the sounds of children: laughter (Shelby and her friend) and arguing (Kathleen and Shelby) - and the remnants of children: empty soda cans left in various places (none of which were the recycling bin), dirty dishes not put in the dishwasher, lights left on in broad daylight, flip flops left under the dining table and in front of doorways, more dirty dishes left on top of the stove, empty food boxes and a milk carton left on the kitchen counter, more lights (and the television) left on downstairs...get the picture?
Oh, I almost forgot the dirty looks and rolling eyes I got everytime I told someone to stop arguing or to pick up the messes left behind. Academy Awards could've been handed out right and left today to the person with "Loudest Sigh" or "Most Profanity yelled at a Sister" or "Most Dramatic Eye-Roll."
Guiness would be proud at the records broken today for "Highest Number of Drinking Glasses Used" and "Adding the Most Letter "O's" to the Name 'Mo-o-o-o-o-o-o-om" and "Ignoring Your Mother Calling You the Longest".
Yes, it was a normal day around here. And according to the Mothering Handbook that I have yet to see in existence, let alone read, I'm supposed to take it all in and roll with the punches. Not. This. Mom.
I'm sorry, but after 18 glorious hours of mothering I am tired of it. Don't get me wrong, I love my daughters more than anything else in this world. I would do anything for them and lay down my life for them. But apparently asking for a little help around here is equal to telling them they have to run naked down the middle of Route 12. Now, they are not bad kids - not at all - and sometimes I do get a bit of help: some vacuuming, dishes loaded or unloaded, laundry that makes it all-the-way-to-the-washer rather than thrown down the cellar stairs (a tear just came to my eye).
But I digress. This post really isn't about what they do or do not do. It's more about me (of course). I want to know just how long in one 24 hour period do I have to 'graciously' (and if you know me, you know I use that tern loosely) put up with this crap? Seriously. Less than an hour ago chaos nearly erupted because it was LATE and I was still hearing about a loose tooth that won't come out and was asked avery two minutes to "just LOOK at it" and ::::gasp:::: I just didn't want to. AND I couldn't find my damn glasses so I COULD see it and get it over with.
So fussing ensued and voices were raised and daddy had to come out of his room and console the person who 'only wanted Mom to look at my tooth.' Sharp looks were exchanged and even sharper words flew across the room and here I sit on the computer at 1 AM!!!
Really? I thought my day was over. Don't laugh. My girls are older and do not require round-the-clock supervision and constant monitoring. I don't want to neglect them, I just want to stop referreeing. At any given time during my day I yell "Take it outside" like a barroom bouncer. Most times I'd give anything to see them duking it out in the front yard rather than have to listen to the petty bickering over who's breathing whose air or who looked at whom.
WHERE in the manual does it say I have to be NICE??? I love them, I feed them, I give them a place to live. I don't have to tattoo "Welcome" on my forehead.
Whew...I feel a little bit better. If you feel the need to comment on this rant, please do and try to keep it pleasant. I don't need you to agree with me, but I don't want to hear what a crappy mother I am. Because it may just send me to the roof with a pair of binoculars and a BB gun. And I'm NOT taking prisoners.