The Corn Maze

                                    
We took the kids to the corn maze this weekend. I told my oldest daughter she could invite ONE friend to spend the night and come with us and that next weekend my youngest could invite ONE friend to spend the night and go to the ghost walk.

On Saturday, we went out to buy a new back door. We came home less than an hour later and there were TWO friends at our house. What the hell? I pulled my daughter aside and said, "J has to go home. I told you that you could only have one friend and you invited A a week ago."

This B looked put her head down and said, "Well, she can't go home because her parents went out of town for the weekend."
"What? How? I didn't even talk to her mom."
"It's okay. I talked to her. I told her it was okay."
"But it's not ok. Also, you don't have authority to talk to people's parents like that."
"I didn't know."
She did know. She waited until we left, called her friend and masterminded the whole thing. I was so pissed I couldn't even look at her.
                      
"I was going to get pizza for dinner but now I am making left over pork chops with green beans and I'm going to make you eat ALL of them." I fail at punishments.

The next day we had to take 2 cars since we had three 11 year olds and my 9 year old with us. It's our yearly tradition. This was our 8th year. We remarked at how much it has grown and how crowded it was. We fed the goats and then the girls excitedly ran over to pick out pumpkins to decorate. They picked their pumpkins and found a spot at the long table to paint the pumpkins. They looked HUGE next to the 4,5,6,7 year olds that crowded around them, leaning over to dip their brushes into the paint filled ramekins in the center of the table.

I leaned into my husband, "We have the oldest children here, I think." How did that happen? I could close my eyes and see them there, in that exact spot, 3 and 5 years old in Halloween sweatshirts and I open my eyes and my five foot tall 6th grader is leaning over painting a pumpkin in her converse sneakers next to her friend with fire-engine red dyed hair. It's unreal. Watching the children grow plays tricks with my mind. It's altered my perception of time.

We made our way to the corn maze. It's 3 miles and we sought at all the check points. My oldest daughter insisted on leading the way and would pout when my husband would call her back when she made a wrong turn. We were all exhausted at the end of our journey.

The girls retrieved their pumpkins and we left. Another visit to the corn maze had come and gone.

Today was a typical Monday. Busy,busy, busy. My 11 year old had dance tonight and I spent the evening shuffling her around and running errands. On the way home from dance she somehow convinced me stop at Starbucks to buy her a salted caramel mocha frappucino.
                             
We sat in the car and chatted about school while we waited for drinks. I told her, "I've decided that on Friday I am going to give you girls money for school lunch. If you don't want to do that, you will have to make your own lunch on Fridays."
I f**king hate making lunches. I've been on a crusade to convince my kids that going back to school lunch is acceptable. So far, I have been unsuccessful. It did not go over well.
"No mom. I hate school lunch."
"Okay. You can make your own lunch."
She pouted, "You are so mean."
"What about Hunter? He makes his own lunch every day. Is his mom mean?"
"No."
"Well, then you can make your own lunch on Friday."
She looked at me with begging eyes:



"But mom, lunches just taste better when you make them."

I like her strategy. The doe eyes are had to resist. My husband has a weakness for them. Pandering to my ego was a smart move as well. I give her an A for effort.

"You still are making your own lunch on Friday. Now drink your frappuccino. Your life is not hard." Bad Mom Award.