Monday, August 15, 2011

Harriet Nelson, I Am Not

The hardest part about being a parent is having kids.

My mother and I had an outstanding relationship; she was always honest with me about what a hard job it is to raise children.  And everything else too, which I admire and greatly appreciate.  In hindsight.  Because hearing that she wanted to throw me out the window sometimes... literally?  Stung when I was younger.

Now?  I get it.

I think if I'd grown up believing life was like TV then this whole Mom deal would be 87% torture and I'd be fighting for first in line at the pharmacy counter.  For all of us.  But knowing it's a hard row to hoe yet a high yield crop if you tend it right makes things bearable.

My kids are driving me somewhat batshit is what I'm saying.  And I love them a million, but I will be so supremely happy once we get back into the regular school year routine.

I haven't been to the gym since June.  I've spent fitful nights at their beck and call since Sudden Surprise Brushes with Death arrived at the door last month.  I feel like I've been hearing, "Mom....hey...Mom?" at seven minute intervals for weeks now... and it's wearing my ass slam out.  Thank god for DVR.  And it's a damn good thing for them they're cute and funny.  If we hadn't had peals of laughter peppered throughout this summer then I would be seriously looking for a mobster boyfriend just for the payoff of Witness Protection down the road.

We are reinstituting bedtimes this week.  With computer/gaming/TV blackout times an hour before sleep.  "This is not a punishment."  I told them.  "This is so you don't keep having a yelling mom all the time.  Because I don't like freaking out all over the place anymore than you like seeing it.  Does that make sense?"  That they climbed on board with this plan, however begrudgingly, gives you a smidge of an idea of how fun things have gotten around here lately.

Also, the trajectory of a half full laundry basket makes an impressive statement.

With or without my best intentions, some socks may never be recovered.







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2 comments:

  1. My kids are driving me batshit crazy too. And they're teenagers so their looks of disdain are extra withering because they have perfected them over time.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Monster could market a Disdain flavored energy drink and make billions.

    ReplyDelete