They Are Trying to Kill Us

17 Mar

Bitch of the Day:

A beautiful, Sohl-filled young lady posted this picture earlier and I just had to nab it. Little did I know at the time how well it would compliment tonight’s bitch.

Our oldest son and the girl are on a mission to end their parents. They can be the sweetest, most well-behaved children all day long (like today) and then something inside them switches over. About an hour before bedtime, they completely lose their shit. For most families, that time of day is spent winding down, putting on pj’s, reading stories and snuggling with freshly bathed, sweet-smelling angels who are already half-asleep. Not my family.

Bedtime is at 8:00 for all three children. We usually attempt to get baths started at 6:30. In a perfect world, we’d be done with baths at 7:00, dressed for bed and teeth brushed by 7:30, story time in bed with night-night kisses by 8:00. And pigs might fly out of my you-know-where.

At 6:30, the procrastination begins. Here’s the boy’s version:

“Oh, oh, let sister go first!!!”

“I took a bath last night. Yes, I did. YES, I DID!”

“But I’m not dirty! Here, smell.” *puts armpit in face*

Here’s the girl’s version except it’s us doing the talking:

“You’re not taking a bath tonight. No, you had one last night. Don’t take off your clothes. GET OUT OF THE TUB!”

“Don’t drink the water. No, that’s nasty. Get your hair wet. Pour it on your hair, not on the floor. That’s gonna cause mold. Damn it, girl.”

“Time to get out. Come on, stand up. Stand up. STAND UP! Let go of the curtain. Don’t pour that on me!” *drags naked screeching girl from tub*

It’s usually 7:45 by this point. Why on Earth we think they are going to make it any easier getting pajamas on is beyond all logic and reason. The girl is usually spinning around the living room naked and trying to play hide-n-seek. The boy runs off to his room where we find him still naked sitting in front of his t.v. If we’re lucky, he’ll have underwear on. BACKWARDS. (He has to see the characters on them. Since all superhero undies have the pictures on the back, you now understand his dilemma.) More often than not, he’ll only make it as far as getting his pajama bottoms on without ever attempting to put on the shirt. That’s if he hasn’t worn us down talked us into letting him sleep in only his underwear. BACKWARDS.

We are now past 8:00. Forget brushing teeth. I mean, hey, they’re baby teeth. They’re gonna fall out anyway. We’ll get ’em in the morning. We also have zero time for stories or cuddles or anything else remotely resembling the idyllic nighttime rituals we pictured in our heads before having children. Instead, we skip on to the end where we tell them goodnight, kiss them sweetly and turn off the lights. Not!

Procrastination round two begins. Here’s the boy’s version:

“But I’m hungry!” (repeated literally 20 times in a row) *working fake tears* “I’m going to starve to death!!!”

“Don’t take my remote. I won’t watch t.v. I promise. I’m not lying. PLEEEASSSEEEE!!!” *wails*

“I need a story. I can’t go to sleep without a story. I want a story. STOOOOORRRRYYYYY!” *more wails*

I’m not joking even a little bit. Everything above was said by him tonight. He was beside himself. It took the hubby more than five minutes to get out of his room after many attempts to reason with him which were followed by many threats of losing privileges, toys, total destruction, etc. I then had to go in there ten minutes later because he started to wail so loudly he was sure to wake up Lil’ Man. I took “The Spoon.” I asked him why he was balling so loudly, what could be so bad that he needed to scream and cry like that, what was worth the risk of meeting “The Spoon?” He sobbed, “I miss my remote. Waaaaaaaaaaaaah.” It was so ridiculous, I just walked away. I got nothing to come back with on that one. He gets ten points for originality.

Here’s the girl version:

“I not go to bed. No. I don’t want bed. YOU go to bed.” *crying starts at a low whine*

“I need mimi*. Where’s mimi? I don’t want water, I want milt** now.”  *mimi=sippy cup. We have no idea why she calls it that. **milt=milk

“I want (fill in whatever happens to float through her mind at that moment.)” Could be Dora, could be a princess, could be something that neither I nor the hubby can understand what the hell she’s saying.

She will wail as soon as the door shuts. The wails gradually grow in volume until they penetrate your core and you are ready to implode. If you ignore her for long enough, she gets out of bed, walks to the door and wails there – while pounding on the door with her mimi. “Dad-dy! Dad-dy! I need potty (no she doesn’t,) I’m hung-a-ry (no she isn’t,) I not tired (yes, she is.)” When we’ve had enough, we go into the room to punish her and instead, are met with the oddest accommodation requests. She absolutely believes she has to have these to put herself to sleep. Maybe it’s her purse, or a certain shoe, or I swear, the other night it was the flyswatter. Weirdest. Kid. Ever.

After we finally got them down tonight, we both looked at each other with utter exhaustion in our eyes. The hubby said, “They are trying to kill us.” I replied, “Oh yeah. It’s all part of their plan.” I just hope they make it quick.

Which brings us to the picture above. Oh, to be Mary Poppins. What I wouldn’t give to be able to get my kids to do my bidding with a mere glance. One that says, “Bitch, please. Don’t even think about it. I can make both of you disappear in this here carpet-bag.” If that were MY magic bag, I wouldn’t be storing a coat rack, chest or any of that other crap she pulls out of it. MY magic bag would have an endless supply of vodka, orange juice, various chocolates and a ‘spoonful of sugar’ that makes the kids go down (to sleep that is.)

I love my kids. I really, really do. There are times though, such as bedtime, when they suck. It’s a good thing I don’t have Mary’s little umbrella. If I did, I might just decide to float away. For a little while anyway.

Bitchin’ Moment of the Day:

I must admit, I’m having trouble finding the silver lining today. When it comes to finances, it doesn’t take much in the way of bad news to completely devastate me. Today, my wallet was hit with the MAC truck of bad news. I’ll adjust and get over it, eventually. It just sucks right now. I do want to maintain the balance of good and evil here. Therefore, I can’t just leave it without saying something positive.

So. What can I say was bitchin’ about today? Hmmmmm.

Okay, here’s one: I got to see my husband’s grandfather today and that made me very happy.

I treasure every moment I have with that man. He accepted me as one of his own as soon as I became part of this family without hesitation. He is truly the sweetest person I have ever met. There’s not one malevolent bone in his body. When I’m around him, I am elated. I wore a smile the entire time he was here today. My hope is that one day, when I get all this bitchin’ out of my system, I will be 1/10 of the person he is and that some might think of me as I do of him.

I hope I do a good job of letting Grandpa know how much he is cherished and loved by our family. It’s the least I can do to show our appreciation for him after all that he has given us in the way of love, warmth and happiness. He is the glue that holds us all together. With any luck, we will have him in our lives for many more years to come.

This past winter has taught me all too well to spend every spare moment you have with your loved ones. You have to make sure they know how much you care for and love them. It can all be taken away in the blink of an eye. And the void you’re left with, especially if you had unresolved issues, is so vast it can feel like you’ll never be whole again. Don’t let petty feuds and differences divide your family and friendships; enjoy those people while you have them here – while you’re still here.

Love you all. Later Bitches!


One Response to “They Are Trying to Kill Us”

  1. Heather March 18, 2011 at 9:36 am #

    too funny. im right there with ya tho

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