Ungrateful Kids

                             
I have been having a hard time lately. I am so super exhausted. Last night I fell asleep at 7:45. I crawled into bed and was out for the count. I need some B12 or something.

Last week was a hard week for this bad mom. I was supposed to come home late on Tuesday but I got home early to surprise the kids. I was driving home thinking about how I was going to make a nice dinner and we were going to smile at each other and then have a nice time and maybe play a game or watch a movie. Something right out of a Norman Rockwell picture.

Well, that didn't work out as planned. As soon as I got home my 9 year old harassed me for an entire hour about how she needs a cell phone. Really? "All of my friends have phones." I don't care about all of her friends. What if they all had blue hair, what if they were all sacrificing animals and jumping off cliffs? Me saying no did not dissuade her. She continued to whine and then negotiated and said that if I get her a phone, then she could stay home alone. She is out of her mind if she thinks she is staying home alone. Kids get into trouble when they are home alone. Then she cried for 15 minutes. I was like:

Then my 7 year old has this new thing where she comes in our room at 5:30 am, turns on the light and screams at us. Screams. "WAKE UP! IF YOU DON'T GET UP YOU WILL MAKE ME LATE!!!!!!" I don't understand. We've been late only twice this entire year, and not even legitimately late. Like 2 minutes late. So, basically we've only been 4 minutes late the entire school year - which, I think, is a pretty good track record. In spite of that, she has screamed at us in the mornings at least 3 times this week. Because she hates us and wants us to suffer. 

They have just been grumpy all week, which makes me grumpy. It came to a head this weekend. We got up on Saturday and the entire time they were fighting. Bickering, hitting each other. Being horrible in general. I HATE the kids fighting. It's like nails on a chalkboard. It kills my soul. I can't imagine people that have more than 2 kids. When I was a kid, I had a friend whose family and 5 kids and they used to call her mom at work to complain about each other. How did she even survive and not want to beat the kids?

Anyway, the kids were fighting on Saturday but it was our day to do our charity for the month. The kids had picked the Orphan Relief and so we printed the list of needed items and we went to the store to collect them. Seriously, my kids asked for 10,000 things while we were at the store. We are here to buy clothes and underwear for kids whose only possessions get carried around in a trash bag and you are trying to convince me you need ANOTHER toy? I love you, but no.  

I was sooooo irritated by the time we were leaving. The kids were walking next to us, shoving each other, I saw a kick. One called the other one a jerk. They were being loud and obnoxious. I was like:

Finally, I had enough. My attempts to get them behave were not working. I finally turned to them and said, "You kids are horrible to be around." I said it and in public. It was not a nice thing to say, but nicer than some of the things I was thinking. I'm I worst mom ever. I turned back around and saw a dad from school. That was just wonderful. I smiled sheepishly, "I bet you never yell at your kids." He laughed, "Nope, never."

I realize more and more every day that I am a failure as a parent. I have read all the books and the parenting blogs and solicited advice from others. For some reason these kids aren't perfect angels all the time. It's really cramping my style. 

Puberty is Hard

                                                  
My kids are not cooperative in the morning. I disagree always with what they want to wear. My 7 year old came out in jeans and her fuzzy Russian snow boots. "It's going to be 80 degrees outside today." She shrugged her shoulders. "I like them." I didn't even argue with her this morning. My oldest daughter walked in and she was wearing a jean skirt, with a tanktop and a jean jacket. It would have been cute except that it was her sister's jean jacket. All I could think about was Tommy Boy. haha.

"Take off that jacket. It looks like you are wearing a baby jacket. It only goes down to your ribs." "No, I like it." It's always something. I kept badgering her to take it off. She was flat out refusing. "Just wear the tanktop with out the jacket. It will be hot out today and that will be cute." She frowned, "No, I can't." "Why not, will you get in trouble?" "No, I can't." I didn't understand. She was so frustrated. "Why do you have to wear the jacket."

She balled her hands into fist. "Because puberty is hard." I almost laughed, but I didn't. "Okay, what does that mean?"

She sobbed, "I have hair under my arms, mama." She was distraught by this. I tried even harder not to laugh. "So what? You can shave it." She wept. "But mama, I don't know how." She is in full out melt down mode. "I'll show you, it's okay." She sniffled. "Okay, but can I still wear this jacket today?" Whatever, I let her wear the baby jacket.

At lunch, I went to the drugstore and brought her some fruity, girly shaving cream. Which was much nicer and much more expensive than I'd ever buy myself. I just lather soap. Cause I'm ghetto like that. I brought some razors. I put on a tank top and do a demo this weekend. It's easy enough.

I'm admittedly, a little sad about it. I think she is a little young to shave but I don't want her to be self-conscious. I am just doing what I feel like in my gut is the right thing to do. Summer is coming up and I think it would be much more damaging to have her embarrassed or worse, have someone tease her than her shave. The only con of the whole thing is that I am not ready for my baby to grow up. I really struggle with that. She's right. Puberty is hard. Truer words were never spoken.

Easter Time

                              
Easter has come and gone. This Easter was interesting, to say the least. We did the typical things. The night before we dyed Easter eggs, and set out a carrot for the Easter bunny and sent the kids up to bed. We laid with them to make sure they were really asleep. Finally- they were out for the count. We had the house to ourselves.

So, we played the piano. Then we had a conversation at the top of the stairs. My husband asked, "Where is the stuff for the baskets?" "They are in the closet, but don't stuff and hide the baskets without me. I am going to take a shower, can you do the dishes? Then I'll come down and we'll make baskets." He went down stairs and I got in the shower and not a minute after I got in the shower, I heard the door open and my 7 year old's voice. "Mama, I can't sleep." I paused in horror. "You were sleeping." "No, I was just pretending. I was trying to...." No. This cannot be. My heart sank. She heard us playing the piano and talking about making the Easter baskets. It was too horrifying for words. I told her to go back to bed and I dried off and put on my PJ's. She looked at me suspiciously when I walked in her room. But she didn't say anything about anything. She knew. She heard it. I died inside a little. I laid down with her and rubbed her back and tried to get her to sleep. I waited...and waited....and dozed off....and waited...... She didn't fall asleep until 11:30 pm. What.the.heck?

I crawled out of bed and we made our Easter magic. Although I was exhausted, I found myself outside in my front yard in my pajamas digging in the dirt to make mud to paint bunny prints on the floor. My husband chewed the carrot. We go through this big charade even though I know that the kids cannot possibly believe in the Easter bunny still. They are realists. They can't possibly believe that a giant bunny makes baskets and hides them in our house when they are sleeping. But, whatever. I will be the Easter bunny until the kids go to college.

 We stuffed the baskets and got ready to hide them. I hid one behind the couch, under our blanket pile. My husband just put one in the corner.
                
                                 One does not simply leave Easter baskets out in the open.

"You need to hide it better than that." He sighed, "You're mean." I'm not mean, but I'm going to make them work a little bit for it. My parents used to hide our baskets so good that we used to cry and they would have to do the hot-and-cold game. It was serious business.

We crawled into bed at midnight. The kids actually let us sleep until 7 am, which was bizarre. They came down and searched for their baskets.Then they dug through them and ate their goodies. There was an element of excitement missing. I realized as I sat on the couch watching them, that my children are no longer believers - but pretenders. Any believing my 7 year old had was ruined by us the night before. It made me sad a little bit.

We made a HUGE breakfast and listened to Jesus Christ Superstar. It's a tradition. One of my favorite memories of Easter was when I was a young teen. We didn't go to mass that year and my dad was feeling really guilty. He has this Catholic guilt thing. So he decided that he was going to listen to the Jesus Christ Superstar soundtrack instead while he made breakfast. You know, in place of going to church. It makes me laugh, but every time I hear that soundtrack it reminds me of Easter. Of my father, barely older than I am now, in the kitchen making a big Easter breakfast....

We ate, went to church, had dinner with my family and we felt incredibly blessed. It was a great day! But I still think my 7 year old will need therapy.....

Meanie

                                        
My oldest daughter is making me crazy. She is going to be 10 soon but she thinks that she is 20. She has been so moody and unpredictable lately. It's making me crazy. She's mean. I let her sleep over a friend's house for 2 nights in a row. Which I think is a long time. I called her last night to check up on her and she asked if she could stay for a 3rd night. Ummm....no. I love you and I want to see you and 2 days is more than enough time. I told her no. "Good night. I love you." I heard her speak angrily on the other end of the phone. "Bye, mom." Click. Well, okay. I love you too...it was good talking to you.

My husband and I both had off today and we were going to relax and have a fun time together. We all went to pick up my oldest and we planned to have lunch together. I walked in and she waved to me. "Hey, mom." Hadn't seen me for 2 days but not a hug or a smile or anything. Whatever. We got into the car and that's when the bitch fest started. "I wanted to stay. I could have gone crabbing on Friday...blah, blah, blah, blah, blah...." Oh my God. Make it stop. I couldn't take it.

We went out for lunch and she didn't let me sit next to her and when we got home she went up to her room to work on a craft. She's rude. I laid down and took a nap. It was glorious.

At dinner, we all sat together and chatted. I suggested that we have family game night. We like games and I thought it would be nice for us to be all together and laugh and play. My oldest had this reaction at the mere suggestion:

"No way. They are called BORED games for a reason." She has a smart mouth. "Plus I don't like you." I was exasperated and finally said, "Enough. I am tired of you being rude and disrespectful. What did I do?" She looked me in the eye and said while counting on her fingers, "One, you always want to hug me and I hate it and I never want to hug you. Two, you treat me like a baby and I can do many things myself. Three, you always act weird like papa. That's why I don't like you. Can I be excused?" Then she got up from the table. My child, who I have invested so much time, energy, love and attention just told me she doesn't like me and doesn't want to hug me. My heart hurt. 

We did force her to participate in family night. We were playing fine and she finally started to warm up and act like normal. Everything was good until our 7 year old decided that all of us were working against her. She threw her cards, screamed "THIS IS CRAP" and then stomped off. My 9 year old said, "Good. I didn't want to do this anyway." I had enough, "Good - go to your room." She gladly got up and left. My husband and I sat alone at the table. We could hear our youngest upstairs crying and carrying on. "Wanna play Trivial Pursuit?" So we did, we played while the kids avoided us. So many years we had no kid free evenings and it turns out that it's completely overrated. I guess we'll try again tomorrow....

Getting My Nails Did

                       
              
I have been in a funk-tastic funk lately. Blah! Today I decided to do something different. The kids are on Spring Break and they have been begging me for months to go to a salon to have their nails done. I needed mine done as well so I decided that we would go to the salon to get manicures.

After lunch, we got in the car and went off to the nail salon. I get my nails done occasionally. I keep my nails short and clean and have a manicure kit at home so I will cut my cuticles and make sure they are presentable. I am much to practical and frugal to get my nails done. However, I splurge a few times a year. My nails were looking pretty raggedy.

I used to go to this nail salon in the mall but last time I went they were rude and they talked me into a gel manicure that was like $40 and I was super annoyed. So I tried out a new place, it came recommended.

We got there and the girls were so excited. Everyone was busy and so I signed in and sat down to wait. After a few minutes a sweet, little Chinese lady came up to me. She didn't say hello or anything. She just looked at me. I was a little confused. "Ummm...yeah. I want to get a manicure. I heard you guys do kid's nails too. Can they get manicures as well." She nodded - she never spoke once and then walked away. I was a little confused but I assumed that meant to wait and so we did. A short time later she came over and motioned to us. We got up and followed her. She pushed out a chair for me. Then she motioned for my girls to sit down at the next 2 tables. Then she left again, without saying a word. The girls looked at me like, This is super weird.

A man came out from the back. He went to my 7 year old first. He buffed her nails and she watched suspiciously. No smile or interaction at all. He sprayed her nails and painted them carefully and then she went to put them under the lights. Then he moved on to my oldest daughter. He cut her cuticles down and painted them. She watched intently. She is a nail expert. She watches Youtube tutorials on how to paint nails and she has special nail art tools. She does professional nails, pretty much. I always check to see what nails she has because she does them different every day. One day they were light blue with waves and an anchor, she does flowers. She did a black and electric blue cheetah print pattern on her friends nails. She could open a boot-leg nail shop out of her bedroom.

He finished up and I know she was thinking, I could do this myself. Off she went to have her nails dried.

Then it was my turn. I was ashamed of my nails. The skin around them is kind of peeling and they were gross. Plus I has tiny baby-hands and I always get comments about them. I didn't escape today. "You hand and nail are small like daughter." I nodded. Yes, I have creepy child-like hands. I know. He was buffing my nails and he found my wart. I'm going to admit it. I have a small wart on my finger. I've had it burned off like 3 times but it keeps coming back. I am some what ashamed of it. He was poking it. "This bother you." I was like, "No, but I need to go back and have it burned off again." He continued to buff my nails and then cut my cuticles. He took each finger and just clipped, clipped, clipped and then he took my finger and.....wait for it.... he cut off my wart with his cuticle cutter. It happened so quick that I didn't realize it was happening. I was like:

I was horrified. He didn't seem like it was a big deal at all. They probably perform boot leg plastic surgery in this place. I didn't know what to say. I was in shock....but I let him paint my nails. I figured, it was more than half way done. When it was time to dry my nails, I called my 9 year old over to grab my purse. She did come over but when I asked to see her nails she walked right past me. "Ah, daughter have attitude." Yes, yes she does.

When I was done the silent lady stood behind the counter and ran my credit card. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I took the kids for drinks and Sonic and then headed home. We all were happy to have pretty nails.

When we got home the kids went outside to play with their friends and when they came in for dinner, I noticed something different about them. They didn't have any nail polish on their nails. They hooted and hollered and begged for MONTHS to get a manicure and when I finally give in they only enjoy it for 3 hours.
I should have taken dollar bills and threw them out the window. So is life in my house.

Someone Save Me NOW

                
Back to the regular scheduled programming and me complaining about the kids driving me crazy. My 7 year old makes me nuts. She is in this stage right now where she wants to wear the same clothes every day. Jean capris and the same lime green Carolina Girl tee-shirt. Last Thursday morning, I was sleeping soundly at 5:45 and she threw the shirt over me and nudged me awake. "Mom, Mom - this shirt has a hole, can you sew it?" Why? Just why? Let me sleep for once. ONE TIME. "Let me sleep until 6." Two minutes later, "Mom, are you going to sew my shirt?" She asked me like 8 times in that 15 minute span. I finally got up and mended the hole and I asked her, "Did you pick this out of the dirty laundry?" She was defensive right away, "It doesn't matter." We had an argument which ended in her wearing the shirt to school. I gave up. Bad Mom Award. If she wants to wear the same outfit everyday - go for it. Kids will start teasing her eventually and she'll get over it. It's so annoying because she has such cute clothes and she REFUSES to wear half on them. I'm not buying crap for her anymore.

The next morning, was the same story. I just wanted to sleep until 6 am. I don't feel like that's too much to ask. Oh, but it is. We made it until 5:33 am. My 7 year old rubs my cheek, "Mama, mama - can I wake up?" I groaned. "Yes, just don't bother me until 6 am." She said, "Okay, but can you turn on the bathroom light? It's dark and I'm scared." What.the.hell. I contemplated asking her to hold it in until 6 am, but I didn't. I dragged my tired butt out of bed and turned on the stupid light. She walked in and I said, "Don't bother me until 6 o'clock, okay?" I climbed back into bed and thought about the 20 minutes of blissful sleep I was about to have. Yeah, that lasted 2 minutes. My nine year old climbed in between us and nudged me. "Mama, mama - can I lay with you for a while?" She already was, why did she have to ask? I yelled, "NO ONE TALK TO ME UNTIL 6 O'CLOCK. LET ME SLEEP!!!!" Why do I have to yell? I was losing my mind.

My oldest daughter had a sleep over that night and so we had a family night with our little one. We were watching the Regular Show and my husband and I both nodded off on the couch before 9 pm. On a Friday night. Sad, just sad. Getting up at the crack of dawn wears us down. We pretty much crawled up the stairs into bed. The next day was Saturday - this was going to be glorious. No getting up to take the kids to school. I was excited. I did sleep past six on Saturday morning. I was nudged at 6:18 by my daughter. "Mama, mama -  it's Saturday. The best part about Saturday is that we can sleep in."

Then this morning I was in hell yet again. I went to bed early but was plagued by horrible nightmares. I dreamed that we were being invaded by the Russians (WTH?) and the doorbell rang and my husband answered it and he got shot in the face. I woke up in a cold sweat. I was very disturbed. I fell back asleep and then dreamed that the women from The Single Mom's Club were having drinks with me and one of them got really drunk and threatened to beat me up and then my house got robbed. I've never seen The Single Mom's Club but I saw the movie poster so it must have been in my head.

Needless to say, I tossed and turned all night. I felt like I was DYING when the kids came in at a quarter to 6. I begged my husband to let me sleep just another 15 minutes. He was insistent that I get up. You know, because misery loves company. "Get up and be a good parent and make breakfast." He was being facetious but I was not in the mood. "I had nightmares and couldn't sleep. Just give me 10 more minutes. I AM a good parent." I did get up but I didn't like it. Let me remind you that I clean up all the vomit in our house. 

I am still holding out hope that I will get to sleep-in one day. At least until 6 am, 5 days in a row. That would be so magical. Until then, coffee.....lots and lots of coffee.

Hippies

    

My 7 year old is a hippie hater. I'm not exactly sure how she knows about hippies or why she dis-likes them, it's just her thing. She talks about hippies at least multiple times a week. When she is mad at us, she will scream, "You are all a bunch of hippies!" and stomp off. When we ask her to do something she thinks is strange, that is the response. She can't find matching socks so I just hand her 2 random socks and she'll say, "What do you think I am, a hippie?" Just this past weekend, we were at the mall, killing time before we went to the movies and we walked by Hot Topic and they had all kinds of cool comic book tee shirts, so we went in for a minute and she tugged me on my arm and whispered in my ear, "Mom, we gotta get out of here. This place is full of hippies." She's too funny.

Anyway, the other day we are sitting in the living room after dinner. The girls were watching Netflix and I was going through the kid's book bags and my husband was on his phone and he turned to me a few minutes later and held his phone up. "I am a Greek Philosopher." He took one of those stupid quizzes that are going around the internets right now, it was "what kind of person from the past are you?" quiz. I grabbed his phone and said, "I'm doing it." I got Egyptian Royalty. Now- that's more like it. Our little one became interested and when I was done she said, "Can I take it?" I handed the phone and she carefully read each question and picked the answers. Then she hit submit. It took a minute to load and then the picture flashed on the screen:
                       
You are a Hippie was emblazoned across the top. A howl escaped from her like none other. She shrieked as if someone cut off one of her limbs. She threw down the phone and threw herself on the love seat and sobbed for AT LEAST ten minutes straight. The rest of us were laughing hysterically. It was ironic. She screamed at us, "IT'S NOT FUNNY, I AM NOT A HIPPIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" This caused more laughter to erupt. Finally she calmed down and walked over and said, "Can I see the phone?" She was taking the test again. I could see her read the questions and try to pick different answers. By the time she hit submit, you could tell she was feeling confident. It paused for a moment and then a picture flashed on the screen:
                          
She got hippie again. It was almost too much for her to take. She threw down the phone defeated, "THIS IS CRAP!!!!!!!!!!!!!" She said crap and then she weeped. She was so upset. Really beside herself. I rubbed her back. "Oh honey, it's just a stupid quiz. It doesn't mean that you are really a hippie. She spoke in between sobs. "Mama, I don't want to be a hippie, they are so weird."

I always thought that she was destined to be a hippie. She was born peacefully into a pool of water. She is named after a tree. She is a kind and giving spirit. She runs around outside in bare feet and picks flowers. I've always kind of thought of both of my kids as being little hippie children. But they don't have to be. "Sweet girl, you don't have to be a hippie. You can be whatever you want to be. That quiz is stupid." She looked up at me, and wiped her tears. "Okay, because I really am not a hippie." LOVE HER.