He came into our room saying “Um, guys, I found Kebbie.He’s on the dining room table.I touched him.”
I was half asleep still but when I heard that I bolted
him?Did you really?You know he loses his magic if you do
that.Why would you touch him?”
“Because I could easily reach him.”
Oh, well then…yeah, if you can reach him then that’s a
different story.In that case you should
totally just screw with the powerful forces of Elf Magic…no big deal.Do you have no soul?
I still thought he might be kidding so my husband went
downstairs with him and asked him to recreate the touching scenario.And he did it again!Like, all casual and stuff.
I’m sorry, have I been killing myself to scare the shit out
of you with that doll for nothing?
I’ve tried to be a decent parent (sort of) but despite of
all my efforts… I’m raising an Elf Toucher!
I hope the other moms around town don’t get word of
this.I can’t take the staring and
whispering behind my back.When he
commits his first felony they’ll interview the neighbors: “Oh, we totally saw
this coming.We knew he was a bad ass
from a pretty early age.Did you know
what he did when he was FOUR?HE TOUCHED
He headed off to school and I was left trying to come up with
a solution to the problem.I got some
online advice about calling Santa, sprinkling magic dust on him, telling Carter
the Elf died…stuff like that…
I finally decided to tell the kids that Kebbie is sick from
being touched.I set him up next to the
scene of the crime.I even added a
little note to boost my credibility:
What? Too much?
Carter came home from school and I showed him the
consequences of his actions.I had no
game plan as to how I was going to make the Elf well again but I thought I
could wing it.I wanted to see if he
even cared that he had put Kebbie at deaths door.
Turns out he did.
First he suggested that we sprinkle some magic on some
snacks and feed them to Kebbie.I asked
where he was planning to get the magic from…he said a magician could do
it.Obviously.I’ll just grab the next magician I see
walking down the street.
Well, magic or not, he was set on the snack idea.He also gave Kebbie his favorite guy to
snuggle up with in hopes that would make him feel better:
He truly thought this was his best idea ever...
Then he decided to share his sandwich with him:
How does that saying go? Feed a cold, starve a fever, cure unmagical Elves with ham?
Then: “Mom!I’ve got
a great idea!We can give Kebbie toys to
play with.That will make him feel
He included a guitar so Kebbie could rock out if he wanted to...
And the toys kept coming.Because more toys clearly equals more chance that he will not be on
Santa’s shit list for ‘effing up one of the Elves:
Desparation is beginning to sink in
He even tried to bribe him:
Dude...I will pay you THREE CENTS to get the hell up and pretend none of this ever happened!
He also suggested letting Kebbie sleep in his bed and, my
personal favorite…he asked me to put Kebbie in my car and drive him to the
Dockside…which is Carter’s favorite restaurant and also a popular local bar. If
cheap burgers and beer don’t make you feel better then I simply do not know
I think Kebbie is going to make a miraculous recovery
tonight.The fact that he keeps talking
about how to heal the Elf made me happy.I mean, he truly felt bad and was suffering.Which is what all this crap is about, right?Making your children suffer?
Wait…before we get into this let’s make sure everyone is
pronouncing that correctly.
Of my many,
many parenting failures the one I am most upset about is the fact that my
children say “Pa-JAM-ahs” instead of the correct pronunciation which is clearly
It’s my husband’s fault.He has a stupid accent.
know where he got it from because he’s from New Hampshire.And not like way up in the sticks New
Hampshire.His town touches
Massachusetts.If you were standing in
his childhood home you could throw something and HIT Massachusetts.
But he unfortunately passed “pa-jam-ahs” onto my
children.I’m considering taking them in
for speech therapy.
Anyway, back to the point of the story.I love my pajamas.And my kids love theirs.
If we don’t have anywhere to be we stay in our pajamas all
day long.It’s cozy.
Recently, however, I’ve been feeling like maybe we should
put on clothes more often.Like, maybe
I’m being lazy and using it as an excuse to stay in my house and not have to
take the kids anywhere.Because dressing
them is a pain in the ass.
Grant went through a thing recently where as soon as I got
him dressed he would run away and rip his clothes off.And then we have Carter who insists on
wearing shorts and soccer socks in the middle of December.But everyone agrees on pajamas.And if they’re the feety kind then you don’t
have to deal with socks.
When I plan to have a pajama day know what really
helps?Rain.Or at least clouds.Nothing makes me feel like more of a lazy
jerk-off than hanging in my PJs on a beautiful sunny day.Sometimes the day will start cloudy but end
sunny.That’s really a problem because I’ve
already committed to pajamas…so then what does one do?
The other day I decided to dress the kids even though we had
nothing to do:
“Where are we going?”
“But we’re getting dressed…so where are we going?”
“I just want to be dressed and feel like a productive member
of society.Sometimes people get dressed
even when they’re not going anywhere.”
I know, right?I
think it’s a silly idea too.I don’t see
the point in putting on clothes if I have no intention of showing anybody the
product of my efforts.Getting three
people dressed is work.And the point of
doing work is to have that work appreciated by others.Most times when I get us all dressed the only
ones around to appreciate it are the dogs…and they don’t really seem all that
Today we had a pajama day.Around 11 o’clock some Jehovah’s Witnesses knocked on our door.When I answered a man in a weird looking hat
gave me a look and remarked “Oh, just getting out of bed?”
I was caught completely off guard so I did what I always do
when I’m caught completely off guard…I lied.
“We’re all sick today so we decided to stay comfy.”
About halfway through his speech I suddenly got really angry at him for his comment.What the hell!Why do I feel like I need to impress you with
my wardrobe choices?You’re the one who
knocked on my door in the middle of the day and interrupted my life.
So I stopped him…
“Ya know what?No one
here is sick actually; we just like to stay in our pajamas.And I’m not interested in your pamphlet.”
I closed the door on that bullshitting hat-wearer.
Who do you think you are? You WISH you were in your pajamas right now! In fact, I'm of the opinion that Jesus wore nothing BUT pajamas!
If they ever come back here again when I’m dressed I’m going
to make them wait on the porch while I change.
Ok the title of this post is misleading.Because my children take showers and
therefore aren’t technically in a tub.
They used to take baths, though.They used to love baths.But they also used to cover every surface of
my bathroom with water.They simply
could not keep themselves from splashing.And I simply could not keep myself from wanting to kill them every
So…we switched to showers.
Showers are so much better for us.We turn on the water, put the kids in there
and shut the curtain.They still try to splash,
but there is no pool of water for them to get their hands on so it stays mostly
They play in there for a while before we soap them up.It’s a nice little break actually.I can’t see what they’re doing in there and
you know what they say: Outta sight…didn’t ever happen…can’t be held
A lot of times I’ll just plant myself on the toilet with a
glass of wine and listen to them chat…and fight.
It’s usually Grant who screams first.Carter is a jerky big brother but Grant is a
cry baby little brother.It’s not a
One night I heard Grant scream and then I heard this:
“Grant, I didn’t punch you.I just peed on you.Relax!”
God, Grant!Can’t you
even be peed on without screaming?My theory
is if someone absolutely HAS to pee on you the best place for that to happen is
in the shower.
Then there was the night I heard Grant screaming and then
heard Carter saying sorry over and over.My curiosity got the better of me on that one so I investigated.
Carter was in there holding the showerhead which was busy
spitting aquatic bullets at Grant.
I was unaware of the fact that my showerhead contained a ‘machine
gun’ setting but Carter apparently found it and was unintentionally assaulting
And that day goes down in history as the only time Carter
has ever attacked his brother by accident.
Aside from the occasional urine and bullet spray incidents
they actually play really nicely in there.And of course if they’re gonna play they need…trucks…
Used to be my shower was the only place I didn’t have to
deal with this bullshit.
When the shower is over Carter likes to do this thing where
he sits down in there and tells me:
“I just want to sit here like an old man for a little bit.”
Like an old man?Wet,
naked and sitting on the floor of a shower?What the hell type of old men have you been hanging around?
This is the first year my kids have really gotten into the
Christmas spirit.And by “Christmas
spirit” I mean…they’ve learned how to ask for things from Santa.
It’s the first year they have realized that the catalogues
that come in the mail have pictures of toys in them.And that those toys are potentially available
to be brought into our home.
Carter first discovered this fact a few weeks ago and since
that time he has not let the Toys R US “Big Book of Toys” out of his
I made the mistake of telling him to take a marker and
circle anything he wanted to ask Santa for:
“Here, mom, I finished circling.”
“Ok, let me see…wow…57 circles, huh?”
Wanting nineteen thousand things from a store like that was
bad enough.But then the specialty catalogues
You know, the ones full of “educational” toys that are
supposed to transform your little angel into the toddler version Albert
Einstein.I guess that’s how they get
away with charging 87 dollars for a set of two blocks.
Carter looooooved that magazine.Naturally.
“Mom, I want this car transporter.I’ve never had this one before.”
“That’s nice.Jesus!60 bucks for one wooden
car?I’ll whittle you a damn car transporter
before I’ll spend that!”
“And I want this construction site…and this airplane…and
this!What is this? I want it.”
That’s a kite, honey, and I bet it’s the best kite in the
whole gosh darned world!
But you’re not getting that kite…know why? Because kites are stupid. That's just a fact.
I tried flying
a kite with them once.After I ran
around my yard like a fool for 20 minutes trying to make it fly the damn thing
stupidly hung in the air for all of three seconds.The kids were unimpressed and I was winded…so no more kites.
But I digress…back to my spoiled child…
“I’m going to get all
Sure.You can get all
that stuff.Then know what else you’re
gonna get?A job.Nothing like explaining to your four year old
that Santa is on a budget.They totally
and completely get the concept of money, right?
“Ok, Cart, you can either have that kite or a college
Then there’s Grant.
Grant isn’t interested in looking through the toy books.Grant only wants one thing: “A blue Jeep that
I can ride on.”
A $300 blue jeep that he can ride on.
I’d rather buy the thousand dollar puzzle that was
hand-crafted by Tibetan Monks.Because I
have plenty of places I can store a puzzle.And I don’t have anywhere to put yet another ride on toy.
“We just got a toy like that.”
“That one was for Carter.I want mine.”
Yeah, well we got that for Carter’s birthday after he asked
for it relentlessly for two months. He just wore us down. Are
you prepared to be that much of an asshole?Cause then maybe you’ll get your jeep.
Not everything they’ve asked for it out of Santa’s price
range.Some things are just out of
Santa’s sanity range…
Carter: “I want a saxophone for Christmas.”
Me: “You’re not getting one.”
Carter: “Well, I’m asking Santa for it so it’s not up you.”
Santa, you jack ass, listen up and listen good…if you bring
that kid a saxophone I will hunt you down, punch you in the nuts and donate all
your reindeer to my nearest zoo.
Ok, enough with the pleasantries…I feel it’s time we had
another little chat.Today’s topic of conversation
is Time Out.
We, the children, are unsure where this ridiculous idea came
from but we want to sincerely express our opinion that: Enough is enough.(We know you like that phrase.)
Honestly, we’re just confused as to what it’s supposed to
In the beginning you really had us going.We truly feared that if we moved from that
step before the timer went off something bad would happen to us.Come to think of it, that could have been
because you actually TOLD us the police would come and get us if we didn’t sit
there for the full two minutes…
Regardless, we sat.
I bet you thought you were really something, huh?Eventually, however, we smartened up.
There was the one day when I personally tested that theory
by moving my butt off that step no less than 7 times before the timer went
And I know for a fact that you saw me because you did that
thing where you turn your back to me so I won’t see you laughing…you’re bad at
that, by that way.
Over the years I think we just wore you down.
The timer stopped being set so our “punishments” got shorter
and shorter.(Except that one time you
sent me to my room for time out and then forgot about me.25 minutes is an excessive amount of time don’t
you agree?Good thing I have so many
toys up there or I would have been REALLY bored!)
Don’t get me wrong, you put in a great effort!
I liked the time you put me in time out and then played with
all of my trucks in front of me.And you
kept saying things like “Wow, trucks are so fun!I’m glad I’M not in time out!”That was a really nice touch.
The problem with your method is that you let me out after a
set amount of time.I don’t have to sit on
that bottom step till I’m sorry, I just have to sit there till I’m done.If I had to stay until I was sorry you’d be
climbing over my little body in order to get up to bed that night.
Please know that if I threw a matchbox car at my brother it’s
because he deserved it.I’m not sorry I
did it…I’m sorry I got caught.
So, I mean, please feel free to continue using time out as a
discipline tool but know that you’re wasting your time.Cause I can do four minutes standing on my head,
with one arm tied behind my back.It’s a
cake walk, lady.Just thought you outta
It’s a wonderful time of year, isn’t it?I absolutely love it, the lights, the music,
the smells, all of it!
Oh…except for Santa…I hate that asshole.
Here are my top ten
reasons why that guy can take a hike:
10.I despise the
You can’t tell me you enjoy saying that word.It makes me uncomfortable.It’s terrible and I hate having to say/sing
it this time of year.I don’t refer to
my kid’s behavior as “naughty or nice”.I say their being “bastards or tolerable”. If you ask me Santa needs to modernize his
9.I don’t have a
I know my kids don’t really realize this fact yet.But when they do they’re going to ask
questions.And when Carter has a question
he’s relentless.It’s like the Spanish
Inquisition…complete with torture in the form of “Why…why…why?”
And then I’ll be so
bullshit at Santa for starting the rumor that he enters through the chimney.So I’m preemptively hating him for it.
8.He is always
happy for no reason.
I don’t trust overly happy people, they are clearly hiding
something.What does Santa have to be so
God damn jolly about anyway?He lives in
the coldest place on the planet and his only companions are a bunch of funny
looking elves and an old lady.I don’t
imagine there’s any good eye candy in that place.
No one smiles all the time unless they are constantly on
drugs…perhaps he’s constantly on drugs.The
whole “flying reindeer” thing could be one big trip.Something to consider…
7.He has ninety-four
different names and no good explanation as to why.
Kris Kringle?Santa?Father Christmas?Papa Noel?In my experience the only people who need that many aliases are
criminals.I think Santa is really a con
man named Barry from Toledo.
6.He makes my
kids think it’s acceptable to walk up to old men, sit on their laps and take
presents from them.
Fellow parents, ever think maybe we shouldn’t be encouraging
this behavior? “Hey kids, don’t take
candy from strangers…unless it’s Santa.And
don’t let anyone put you on their lap…unless you’re gonna get something for it in
return.Glad we had this talk; that
should clear things right up for you!”
You suck, Santa.
5.I have to make
that jerk cookies.
In case you missed it…I don’t bake.If my life depended on my ability to bake I’d
probably have to throw in the towel.
But nevertheless, every December I have to DRAG myself to
the store, BUY pre-made cookie dough, TURN ON my oven and BAKE!And you can’t just make him any old cookies…you
have to put sprinkles on them.And you
have to let the kids do it so they feel like they’re part of the process.All that leads to is a huge mess in my
kitchen and a plate of burnt sugar cookies that vaguely resemble Christmas
Santa, you’re getting store bought this year and you’re
gonna like it!
bring ME anything.
And I make a list.Which proves that I believe. If that bitch from the “Santa Baby” song
can get a light blue ’64 convertible I think you can manage to bring me a
little something.So feel free to drop
those diamond earrings I’ve been asking for into my stocking this year, Kris.
all those toys…but he doesn’t stick around to clean my playroom afterwards.
Once again, Big Guy, all you’ve given me is work.I’m the one who has to clean and organize and
find a place for all the crap you just left for my moderately well behaved
Why don’t you send me one of those elves that you work to
the bone all year as a house keeper?Speaking
of that, how many labor laws do we think you’re violating?Help me clean up or I’m going to talk the
elves into forming a union…then you’ll be totally screwed.
January to November off.
Yeah, sure, it’s great to threaten the kids with no toys for
one month a year…but what do I do when they’re bratty in, say, the spring?
Because threatening them with mom being mad at them is a
joke.But tell them that some magical
fat guy is going to put them on the naughty (Gag!) list and they shape up.And during the Christmas season you can see
Santa wherever you go.So the threat is
All I’m saying is that mall Santas should have to put in an occasional
appearance in the summer.Let’s not be
lazy fellas, put more effort into scaring the children year round, would ya?
1. Santa takes all the credit.
Who shops, wraps, bakes, cleans, cooks?The parents.Who gets all the credit? SANTA!
I’m sorry, Papa Noel, did you brave the stores and run
people over with your double stroller in order to get the perfect gift?In fact, you did not.Did you stay up till 1 am assembling a Little
Tikes Cozy Coupe Truck last year?Did
you?Speak up…I can’t hear you.No?You didn’t?
That’s cause you’re awful.
But on Christmas morning when the kids are psyched out of
their minds about their toys they thank YOU!And you let them!
Stop being such a conceited ass.Maybe this year you could drop a little note
about much they should appreciate everything their parents do for them.Is that too much to ask?
So there you have it.My Top Ten reasons I think Santa needs to clean up his act.
Last year was our first year with the ever popular Elf on
the Shelf.I know most of you are
familiar with this but a quick recap for anyone who isn’t: You get a creepy elf
doll and you tell your kids he’s a secret agent for Santa who flies to the North
Pole after they go to bed to update the big guy on their naughty vs. nice
status.Then you back up your story by
moving the doll around your house so the kids think he’s alive.
Ours in named Kebbie.No idea.That’s just what Carter
Last year I wrote a blog about him ( He Sees You When You're Sleeping) and how I think its
bullshit that parents only get to scare their kids into behaving for one month
a year.Don’t get me wrong, I try to
threaten my kids all year long.But that
elf dude adds credibility that is simply not available in June.
This year, however, I have a different attitude towards Elf
on the Shelf.I don’t simply see it as a
way to enforce the idea that Santa is always watching.Know what I think it really is?
It's work because you have to move him all the time.Can’t have the kids thinking the scary
magical doll DIDN’T fly back to Santa that night now can you?
Hey parents, you’re not too busy this time of year or
anything right?You can add “remember to
move the damn elf every single night” to your holiday to-do list can’t you?
If you forget to move him then you better hope you notice
before the kids do.If he’s in the same
spot as the day before then you have come up with an on the spot explanation for that:
“I don’t know guys, maybe he got into the eggnog last night
and he’s too hung over to move.Why don’t
we go get him a Big Mac and see if that helps…”
We forgot to move him all the time.Then I would have to have my husband go
juggle knives or breathe fire to distract the kids while I climbed a bookshelf
or some other shit like that.
Here’s a question: Why does he HAVE to move?What if he just happens to love that
particular spot on top of the hutch?I
have a favorite place I sit when I’m chillin’.Why is it so freaking inconceivable that old Kebbie just stays in one
Because that would be easy.And that’s not the point of parenting during the holidays.
Now, I see these moms out there who get super creative with
their elves.Good for them. Here is part of a list that someone posted of
their ideas of how to do up Elf on the Shelf:
1. Marshmallow fight – marshmallows everywhere
2. Pillow fight – feathers everywhere
3. Nerf gun fight – darts everywhere
4. Laundry fight – clothes everywhere
Are you kidding me?The idea of anything “everywhere” makes me want to die.And I can barely remember to move him from
one shelf to another shelf.You want me
to stage a marshmallow fight in my kitchen?Not happening.But you go ahead
and enjoy throwing clothes all around your house.
This is as creative as we got last year:
It kind of looks like
he's contemplating jumping.
I should have said “See
that, kids? Kebbie is thinking about ending it all because you two are so
bad.Do you want that elf’s death on
your hands?DO YOU?”
Now THAT is how you scare your kids into embracing the
It has just occurred to me that I’ve never written a blog
about daylight savings.This surprises
me because I like to write blogs about things that I hate.And I hate daylight savings.
First of all, daylight savings was clearly invented by
someone who had some serious angst towards their parents.Why else would anyone want to create such a
horrible thing?It was obviously meant
as a punishment.
If you’re not a parent (Congrats!) then this twice yearly
phenomenon probably doesn’t affect your life too much.Maybe you’re a little sleepier when you
spring ahead, but that’s about it right?
For parents, daylight savings is earth-shatteringly God
It often takes a lot of work plus a few small miracles to
get your kids on an acceptable sleep schedule and we parents really don’t appreciate
that being messed with.
When Carter was a baby I would drop whatever I was doing in
order to be home in time for his nightly routine in order to keep him on
schedule.It didn’t matter if we were
out running errands or at a friend’s house for dinner and drinks.I would stop all activity and leave.
Did you hear me?I
would PUT DOWN ALCOHOL in order to be home.This is serious, people.
So when you’re finally able to move heaven and earth and coordinate
your life around your baby’s sleep habits daylight savings time is a massive
kick in the balls.
I think it’s so nice that some of you got an extra hour of
sleep this weekend.Know what I
got?A kid in my face at 5:30
instead of 6:30.I then had to get up in
the pitch black. I tried to explain the situation. But trying to explain daylight savings to a 4 year old is like...well...it's much like trying to explain daylight savings to a 4 year old:
“It’s dark out.Go back
“But I’m awake.”
“Yeah but you shouldn’t be because the clock says it’s too
early for me to be hearing your voice. You should be sleeping. “
“But my eyes are open. See? Can I have pancakes?”
Later that day I got to read all the status updates about
the refreshing extra hour of sleep you childless people enjoyed.
You liked falling back?Well I hope you like falling back off the cliff I’m going to shove you
over if I hear one more word about how rested you are!
Around 5:30 that evening, when it was once again pitch black
out, I started thinking about how it was actually 6:30 which meant the kids
should be going to bed in about an hour.But of course I couldn’t put them to bed then, I had to wait.Otherwise they would be up at 4:30 the next
Welcome to “Falling Back Day” or as it’s more commonly
known: THE LONGEST PARENTING DAY OF THE YEAR!
I cannot tell you how many of my fellow moms posted about
how they had to start drinking way earlier than normal to survive that
See?See what you’re
doing to our livers with this bullshit time change?I hope you’re happy Mr. Daylight Savings Man!
I hate puzzles.I hate
the ever loving shit out of puzzles.
You’ll notice I swore nice and early in this entry.That’s how strongly I feel about those damn things.
I was not a puzzle do-er in my youth.They never appealed to me.Mostly because I have no patience.
And now as a mom my patience level with them is at an
historic all-time low.It’s frustrating
enough not being able to put the pieces together yourself…but watching someone
else struggle with this task?It’s excruciating.
Here are some examples of things that give me the same
feeling as when I watch the boys do puzzles:
-Getting lemon juice in a paper cut
-Cold ice cream on a sensitive tooth
-Stubbing your toe over and over in the same place
-Being water boarded
Those wooden ones where you put the wooden alligator piece on top of the
picture of the alligator are ok.I’m
down with those.But jigsaw
“Oh my GOD…are you kidding me?That piece isn’t even the same COLOR as the
piece you’re repeatedly trying to match it up with.The sticky out pieces have to go INTO the
holes.You can just JAM two sticky out
pieces together!Don’t you know you have
to do the edge first?Turn the piece
around…no…the other way…keep going…TURN IT AROUND!What are you, 2? Just let me do it…”
I sometimes think that doing puzzles with the kids is a good
idea.Then again I sometimes think having
twenty margaritas in one sitting is a good idea.Turns out, neither of those things ever ends
up being a good idea.
The other day I got a few new puzzles and was determined to put
in an effort.
At first the kids were excited because it was something new
and different.You can only play with
the laundry baskets and the vacuum attachments for so long before you seek alternate
forms of entertainment.
The first one we tackled was shaped like a T-Rex.
“Boys!Let’s do this
5 minutes later…
“Mom I don’t like this puzzle, we’re gonna go play trucks.”
Wow, kids.Way to
follow things through and not be quitters. Your work ethic amazes me.
I refused to let them quit.You would have thought I refused to give them food and shelter.Cause they reacted the same way.They screamed and cried as I forced them to
sit there and endlessly match up pieces of dinosaur. I actually wanted to join
them but it didn’t seem like the adult thing to do…so I swore instead.
“I fucking hate puzzles!”
“You don’t say fucking, Mama.”
“YOU DO WHEN YOU HATE PUZZLES THIS MUCH!”
At this point they were just done.And after I searched through 58 all green pieces
before I found the exact all green piece that I was looking for, I was done as
I think TV was invented by someone with an aversion to
puzzles.And I’d like to buy that person
It’s an absolutely gorgeous day here in New England!October is my favorite month; the leaves are
at their peak and everything looks and smells and feels divine.
Today is perfect.Not
too cold, not too hot.It’s one of those
days where you think “Hey! I’m gonna surprise my kids and walk them home from
school! And it will be so fun because we can crunch the leaves together and
take in the sunshine and enjoy the day!”
I decided to bring our dog Toby with me. I was so proud of
myself.I thought: “Wow!Look at me!I’m a mom walking with her dog to pick her kids up from school on this
beautiful day.Is this is straight out
of Parents magazine or what?!?!”
Well, I left the house a little later than expected and
ended up having a jog the last leg…up a big hill.So I arrived late and dripping with
sweat.But no problem, I still made a
point to mention to all the teachers that we would be walking home that afternoon.I expected to receive some sort of parenting medal for my intentions but
all I got was “Oh that’s nice”.
Whatever people, I know you’re impressed by my efforts.Maybe you just don’t want to make all the
parents who DROVE here feel badly.I understand.
I grabbed the boys from their classrooms and headed
outside.A few of the kids wanted to pat
Toby so I stood there a little while before I realized…my children were
missing.They were literally almost to
the end of the street without me.I got
them back quickly because I think they take away your “I walked my kids home
from school” award if you lose them in the process.
Ok, everyone get the dog petting over with?Great.We’re off.
We started on our fun, fun walk home but then a car turned
the corner and it was…my husband.He was
running errands during his lunch break and was in the neighborhood.Naturally the kids thought it was so awesome
that Dad was picking them up.Only that
wasn’t the plan.The plan was to
walk.Guess who now hated that
Mike then got to drive away leaving me with both kids
screaming “We want Daddy!” and Grant literally crumpled in a heap on the side
Thanks for the visit, hun!
At least I got to throw their backpacks in his car so I didn’t
have to carry them…
After we had been walking/dragging Grant for a few minutes
Carter announced that he was tired.And thirsty.But I had planned ahead for this and brought
water…which was in the backpacks…which I had just put in Mike’s car.
It was at this point that the intense and uninterrupted
whining began: I want to be the leader! No, I do! We don’t want to walk.We
want lunch.Carry me. I want to hold
your hand.I don’t want to hold your
hand.WE WANT TO BOTH HOLD YOUR SAME
This was clearly not what I had pictured when I made the
fateful decision to take this walk.Come
to think of it, you can’t even see the sidewalk cause of these friggin’ leaves.And the sun is too hot.I’m melting.Stupid sunshine.
We were almost home when Carter started wheezing.He’s asthmatic.But it was ok because I foresaw this
happening and had brought his inhaler.And
put it in the backpack.
MIKE!I HATE YOU SO
Alright kids, let’s keep moving. I can SEE the house.Surely nothing more can go wrong before we
reach our front door. (OMG Danielle! WHY did you just say that! That's like the horror movie equivalent of someone saying "I'll be right back".)
“Mom!I have to go
don’t even have words to express how much I want you to be kidding.The thing about Grant is that he holds
everything in until it’s an emergency.The
look on his face told me it was an emergency.And turns out I was right.
He did it.He did it
right there, 50 feet from our house.And
then naturally he couldn’t just WALK like that.He had to move around and scream and cry until…it fell out his pant leg.
I am now officially the mother who's kid pooped on the sidewalk.
But it’s ok, cause I had brought a bag for Toby just in
case.And I had put it…
IN THE FUCKING BACK PACK!
I hate walks. If anyone needs me later I’ll be diving into a glass of Shiraz
and doing a few laps.
I thought it was time we had a little chat.I know for a fact that people in the
workplace receive performance reviews from time to time and I don’t see why we
shouldn’t start applying that policy to our home.
You’ve been employed here for 4 years and overall I think
your efforts are satisfactory.There is,
however, one area where I feel there is room for improvement…and that is time
I frequently hear you state that you don’t have time to
complete your tasks, that there aren’t enough hours in the day, that you can’t “drop
everything” to meet my demands.This attitude
is simply unacceptable.
When I make a request there needs to be nothing more
important going on in your life.It’s
not my fault that you’re in the middle of doing the dishes or folding the
laundry.Those are tasks that need to be
completed on “your time”.When you’re on
my time I expect efficiency.
When I say “I want a snack” that is what I want.I don’t see how I can be any more clear.I didn’t
say I want a snack “when you’re done” or “when you get around to it”, did
I?The number of times I have to repeat
myself in order to be heard is ridiculous.How can we run a household with such a lack of respect for each
other?When you go to the hospital do the doctors say “I’ll save your life…when I get a chance”?No.They do not.And this is the
exact same scenario.
Remember that time I needed the TV louder and you were using
the potty?And I had to literally bang
on the door and scream for, like, two whole minutes until you did what I
asked?These are the kind of situations
that I’m talking about.If you had
better time management skills you would have been able to pee and turn up the
Now, I know you are a big fan of this “patience” thing.You keep asking for it to be implemented in
our day to day operations here at the house.I don’t know what your previous employer’s policies were regarding this
issue but I can tell you right off the bat we don’t operate like that
here.Stop sending out memos about it as
they are simply ignored.
And for the record, you are not allowed to punish your
children for taking matters into our own hands.Take this morning, for example.I
know you heard Grant’s request for Cheerios but you were just “too busy” taking
a shower to comply.So you can’t be
surprised to learn that I took care it for you.To be honest, I’m getting a little sick of picking up the slack around
I could reach the cereal and I could reach the spoons. If you want us to eat out of bowls then you'll have to be more attentive now won't you?
So to sum things up: It would be greatly appreciated if you
could find a way to meet all requests at the exact moment they are made.Now means now, after all.And that is when I want things.Now.Right