Well, I didn’t really cry today at all. I just screamed. I mean, SCREAMED.
It was only an unmade bed. It wasn’t like my kids committed murder. But it was one unmade bed too many. How many friggin’ times do I have to ask them to do the same thing over and over and over? And really, I don’t buy the “it’s developmentally appropriate for kids to forget” argument because they never seem to forget how to turn on the video games or open the fridge when they want to. Instead, it’s just what they don’t want to do that causes all sorts of selective hearing.
I am well aware that I have a lot to be grateful for, and in the long run when I’m old and gray, I’m going to miss the times my sweeties were in the house. In fact, I’m pretty sure they KNOW I am aware of it which is why they have been taking advantage of me more than usual lately. You know, because they can.
So today after school I apologized for being a harpie over some fries at cheese Wendy’s. I didn’t care that they weren’t organic, GMO, dairy free. I was just glad that my husband – although he lost his job three weeks ago – was with me.
I was grateful that, while my son cried yet again outside men’s room, I was able to give him a hug and remind him that fifth grade anywhere is just no fun.
I was relieved to hear that he wasn’t crying about being bullied so much as he was upset about being bored.
But most of all, I was grateful because we didn’t bond and eat junk food in the kids room.
Because that bed is still not made.
And that would really piss me off.