Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Put a Cork In It, Kid

"Now, Mrs. Kellerman, if you'll step this way, we'll let you blindly pick out one of three insults you can live with for the rest of the day."

Morning Readers,

I have to admit, being a perfect parent would go a little smoother if my children would stop saying things like, "You, leave me alone."

Sometimes, I don't think any of them realize I'm trying to look better than all the other parents of young children, and they shop lift a tin of mints anyway.

I suppose they get points for only clogging the toilet one out of the last three times they tried this week. Then again, soggy toilet paper and petty theft are dull in contrast with the talking back that's been happening on a daily basis.

The baby gets a pass. He's sitting in a salad bowl right now, and looks adorable. 

Before I had children, my Big Book of Parenting came with tables and charts, lists and vin diagrams about how my kids would respond to me when I spoke. For instance, page. 748 had clearly printed-out dialogue for years three to four:

Me: Time for bed.
Children: We love bed! We shall now go there and not emerge until sunrise. Would you like us to make you a snack before we retire?
Me: No, thank you. I'm watching my figure. Then again, half a pie never hurt anyone.

Me: Children, gaze upon this sumptuous dinner I've slaved over.
Children: Mother, it looks delightful. Watch while we eat everything you and Stouffer's have given us.

Me: Time for the baby's nap. And we all know what that means.
Children: Indeed. My brother and I will now spend all day communing outside with nature.
Me: And you won't come back in for at least an hour?
Children: Silly woman, we won't come back inside for five more hours. An hour is barely enough time to build a forts, play ten games of Hide and Seek, and bird watch while discussing various migratory patterns of local Kansas wildlife.

As it usually does, life has let me down as gently as possible, in the form of Sundance declaring her independence from anything her parents think. Or from the fact mints need to be purchased before they're pocketed.

Me: Time for bed.
Me: Did you just spit at me?
Me: You did not just spit at me. You can run, but I'll find you.

Me: Eat all your dinner and you can have desert.
Sundance: No.
Me: Fine, you can go hungry.
Sundance: Ok.

Me: Please get out of the silverware drawer.
Her: No, I have to juggle the spoons.
Me: That's a fork.
Her: You juggle the spoons.

And in the micsellaneous category...

"I don't need clothes to go outside."

"You're mean to me."

"Butt."

"Don't say butt."

"Butt."

So, yes, what I'm saying is I'll be spending the rest of the week multitasking.  Because it's entirely possible to be a better parent than everyone else, while returning stolen breath fresheners.

Yep, that sounds good on a Tuesday. I have to go. The baby just figured out there are holes in his nose.

Until Next Time, Readers!




7 comments:

  1. Oh, to have survived it all, and yet my grown kids still give me sass. What did I do wrong?

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  2. Sounds like a typical day to me. Bed time and get out of bed time are equally as frustrating. Five more pounds and I will no longer be able to forcibly remove the child from her bed in the morning. UGH!

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  3. Remember Erma Bombeck's line: "Grandchildren are God's reward for letting your own children live!!"

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  4. I've been trying for YEARS to get mine to happily shower when directed that way, yet alas, failure 99% of the time. I think the once/year when they're like "ok" is just to keep hope alive in me, and I'll gladly take it! Just keep swimming girl :)

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  5. We have recently discovered that to get my 3 yr old to finish her dinner I just have to ask her if I can finish it for her. Only works with me. Not mom. Not brother. On one hand I'm a bit sad that she has singled me out in not wanting to share her food with me but on the other hand, YAY!!!! THANK GOD! An easy way to get her to eat!

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