“MOOOOMMMM!” …. “Whaaat?” …. “MOOOOMMMM!” My oldest is screaming through the house, while Dad’s on the pooper and I snuck downstairs to clean some cat poop while the chokeable Dora is making its evening run. Quit staring at me, answer your own questions! It’s creepy. Is something wrong I think? It’s only been two minutes since I was last upstairs, but this sounds frantic. So, I stop scooping and run upstairs. “What?” I huff out of breath, because you know, 13 stairs are a toughy. “What’s 5 + 2?” Of course.
So, I’ve been MIA for a few days. Been in a bit of a mood. Either pissed off or sad for no reason. Yep, you’re right men, it’s totally my period. (Really it kinda was. Even Mark left me alone.) So, I decided to stay quiet. Didn’t want to write something snarky and mean, although trust me, it would have been entertaining, and I did write some feelings I was having about the fact that cancer seems to rearing its ugly head EVERYWHERE, but Mark said it made him want to jump off a cliff and could I end on a happy note? At this point with that subject, no I can’t, so I’ll save that little gem for another day. Let me know when you’d like a good depressing, there is no hope, is there a God and if so, WTF is His plan post. Never? Yeah, I thought so.
Hold on, I’m getting some pretty detailed instructions on how to wipe a butt. Apparently, there is a procedure and very detailed rules…..
OK, I’m back. I think I did it right. God that kid scares me. He is about six months away from being smarter than Mark and me, or maybe he is already at 6 and I am just too proud to admit it. And yes, I wipe my 6 year olds butt, but I’ll take that stigma over track marks and itchy assholes any day.
I wonder if I’m hovering, if I’m one of those so-called helicopter parents. Maybe a little. A few weekends ago, Mark was with the kids at a function without me, and he came back with a story that Will was being punched and kicked by another kid during some rowdy play that got out of hand. My mother bear instinct came out and I was ready to go right then, but Mark told me that while he kept an eye on the situation, he wanted to see how Will would handle it himself. Apparently, he did great. He stayed calm, didn’t freak out and told the other kid that he wasn’t playing by the rules. Not sure what happened after that, but my guess is they went back to being friends and playing their game. Now if I had seen that happen, you’d bet your ass I’d be up and in the middle of it. Mark did the right thing and took a breath and let Will spread his wings a little. It all turned out OK and maybe Will learned something about how to handle a situation that might be uglier and intentionally meaner next time. That’s why I keep my husband around ladies. As he would say, clearly, he’s smarter. Until you ask him to spell ridiculous and then he yields his greatness to me for a bit. We all have our strengths.
Then Gracie’s teacher tells us she wishes she was more assertive, and she was glad that just last week she stood up for herself for the first time. And all this time I thought she was a bulldozer who let no one get in her way. Apparently, that’s just her brother, or me. Not her dad, cause he’s wicked fun, but even he loses a few battles now and again. She lets kids take her toys and tell her to do. NOOOO!!!!! That’s the downfall of having a bossy older brother. That’s how I was growing up, and while I didn’t get picked on so much, I did let those that I loved around me get picked on while I tried to fade into the wall. I also let these strong-willed people define me as a person, and it took a good 20 years before I realized those people have absolutely no idea what they’re talking about, they’re just louder.
So, what’s next? Homeschool? Yeah right. I am a horrible teacher. I’d just end up assigning them homework and then doing it for them. They’d end up hermits who couldn’t conjugate verbs, let alone balance a checkbook, because I would skip math completely. So, I’m not sure what to do. I guess face my own fears as they grow up and teach them to be the kick ass person I always wanted to be. Somehow make them comfortable in their own skin, in love with their uniqueness and quirks. Aware of their appearance and proud of it, but not be obsessed by it. Mess them up just enough so they can be funny. Help them to focus on what’s important and what’s not. And most importantly, not let the loudmouths define who they are.
Ga! See??? I got all bummer at the end. What’s my deal????
Until next time…now I have to go make a Christmas list….Grrrr… How much are maids and full time chefs????