MISSING: My sanity
Things are busy, busy around the house.
My older sister and her three kids are here and since Merce's kids came home, our house population has grown by 7. I am constantly tripping over a body or having some kid run into me, bumping their knobby little foreheads into my belly. I love having them all here. It's like one big sleep over and I get to take half days off of work to recover! Really, I have 7 days of vacation to use by the end of August or I lose them, so I take half days here and there (like every day this week, almost!!).
Next week, I will be using 2 days. We are going to the family reunion. It is in Utah and we will be camping. Most of my family has not met, nor seen the greatness that is Ty, so it is my mission to introduce them to the loveliest child on the face of the planet. However, I forget that these days, he's really not quite so lovely and is actually quite the most embarassing of spoiled, rotten badness that other people, when they see you on the street or in the store, with said awful child in tow, usually laying on the floor and screaming at the top of his lungs, they avert their eyes and quickly run in the other direction.
My god, the fits. The fits!! They are slowly chipping away any chance I had at sanity. I pray, for real, every night, that the child I love will win out over this little shit head monster that is inhabiting his self for the last couple of months.
Really, how do you know that you are doing a good job as a parent? Is it in the grades when they get to school? Is it in the company they keep as they get older? Is it in the number, or lack thereof, of the times that they go to jail when they reach adulthood? What is it?
People tell me I do a good job with him and he is a damn good kid. I stare at them open-mouthed and think to myself "Are your standards really so low?". Does the fact that he bathes regularly and dons clean clothes (when his 'non-holey' pants are all clean, otherwise, he's been known to recycle pants every once in a while) make me a good mother? Or is it that he can dig deep and find the manners that I have tried to instill in him and he puts them to good use every once in a while, just so they don't get rusty?
I don't know. I know that he must put to use a completely different persona with others when I am not around because if he didn't, these people would be telling me, "You are nice and I really like you. Please don't take offense, but PLEASE, DO NOT bring that Satan child back here for me to watch over. He is exhausting and bratty. He says bad words and grins devilishly as he spouts them. The other children are afraid of that fit throwing thing he does where his head spins around on some axis and he vomits all over the walls. Please do not bring him back for daycare, he is not allowed and we will have a security guard on detail to make sure he does not enter these doors again." You laugh, but you don't know how close to true this is. I expect it every time I get to the door.
Instead I get: "He is so good and such a good little helper. He always tries to engage the babies in some sort of activity and he is so good at sharing with everyone and reminding them of their manners." To which I always reply "Thank you but I think you must have the wrong parent. The angel whom you have described is not my child, but I wish he were!".
I jest, really. But some days, like the last two, he is such a complete nightmare when I am around. Why do I bring out the worst in my kid? He really is a good kid, when it's just the two of us, hanging out. It's when other people come around that he is constantly trying to bring home the title for the world's best brat. He's rather upset at losing the belt to that kid last year.
Coors Light, take me away.
This weekend, we pay tribute to our city bird, the Mosquito. And we will all spend too much time in the sun and drink way too much beer.
Happy one day late birthday to Merce!!!! Your birthday post will be coming soon, which you won't know about since you never get on here and read this anymore.
Take care, all. I shall return, maybe not sooner, more than likely later.
My older sister and her three kids are here and since Merce's kids came home, our house population has grown by 7. I am constantly tripping over a body or having some kid run into me, bumping their knobby little foreheads into my belly. I love having them all here. It's like one big sleep over and I get to take half days off of work to recover! Really, I have 7 days of vacation to use by the end of August or I lose them, so I take half days here and there (like every day this week, almost!!).
Next week, I will be using 2 days. We are going to the family reunion. It is in Utah and we will be camping. Most of my family has not met, nor seen the greatness that is Ty, so it is my mission to introduce them to the loveliest child on the face of the planet. However, I forget that these days, he's really not quite so lovely and is actually quite the most embarassing of spoiled, rotten badness that other people, when they see you on the street or in the store, with said awful child in tow, usually laying on the floor and screaming at the top of his lungs, they avert their eyes and quickly run in the other direction.
My god, the fits. The fits!! They are slowly chipping away any chance I had at sanity. I pray, for real, every night, that the child I love will win out over this little shit head monster that is inhabiting his self for the last couple of months.
Really, how do you know that you are doing a good job as a parent? Is it in the grades when they get to school? Is it in the company they keep as they get older? Is it in the number, or lack thereof, of the times that they go to jail when they reach adulthood? What is it?
People tell me I do a good job with him and he is a damn good kid. I stare at them open-mouthed and think to myself "Are your standards really so low?". Does the fact that he bathes regularly and dons clean clothes (when his 'non-holey' pants are all clean, otherwise, he's been known to recycle pants every once in a while) make me a good mother? Or is it that he can dig deep and find the manners that I have tried to instill in him and he puts them to good use every once in a while, just so they don't get rusty?
I don't know. I know that he must put to use a completely different persona with others when I am not around because if he didn't, these people would be telling me, "You are nice and I really like you. Please don't take offense, but PLEASE, DO NOT bring that Satan child back here for me to watch over. He is exhausting and bratty. He says bad words and grins devilishly as he spouts them. The other children are afraid of that fit throwing thing he does where his head spins around on some axis and he vomits all over the walls. Please do not bring him back for daycare, he is not allowed and we will have a security guard on detail to make sure he does not enter these doors again." You laugh, but you don't know how close to true this is. I expect it every time I get to the door.
Instead I get: "He is so good and such a good little helper. He always tries to engage the babies in some sort of activity and he is so good at sharing with everyone and reminding them of their manners." To which I always reply "Thank you but I think you must have the wrong parent. The angel whom you have described is not my child, but I wish he were!".
I jest, really. But some days, like the last two, he is such a complete nightmare when I am around. Why do I bring out the worst in my kid? He really is a good kid, when it's just the two of us, hanging out. It's when other people come around that he is constantly trying to bring home the title for the world's best brat. He's rather upset at losing the belt to that kid last year.
Coors Light, take me away.
This weekend, we pay tribute to our city bird, the Mosquito. And we will all spend too much time in the sun and drink way too much beer.
Happy one day late birthday to Merce!!!! Your birthday post will be coming soon, which you won't know about since you never get on here and read this anymore.
Take care, all. I shall return, maybe not sooner, more than likely later.
posted by Lori | 10:12 AM
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